




»* 1 •' 


-% > > « 


« 

* *r/ 

^ * 

♦« 

« «' « 1 t 


> » * 
' « 
>•>: 'A 

* >.♦ 

#« 


• i «l 

• r 


'•4 

5 

p 

1 

s; 

•** 

ft 

0 . 

r**« ♦ 

W 

r 

9 '4 


• ^ -> « 


» » tf. *.-- . y 


r' ^ 

' ♦ • 

t 1,^ -ft 

< * ■» » 


f T \ ■ A • »■'« 

• s‘ »•- 

•■ J $ tl. • 

. ♦'-■4 » t'" 

« *1 ■« 

V-' . ■« 


•■* 2! 

9- 

J 

’ 1 


m 

i 


f it » ••*• 

' » A. 

• :■ ♦' • 

ft 

• •■> « - 































































t 




5^ 










I* • ^ 
*' / 


» n 


t 










i 




^ 

%• / 








■ ^ ,' 

V 

/ 


‘f 


V 


•r 


« 


. , , * 

/' 






^ - 

L 





, > 






k 


\ 


r 


I 


/■ ' ,• 

f 


/» 


f • 

« 





^ T 

* '«*.'» *•: 




/ . 


y 


^ - f 


/ ’ 




• V 

. A 


/ 


'/V 


/ 

/. 


'* ■' V . > . 


✓ 


/ 




\ 





't 


r 

» 




X 


THE CHAUTAUQUANS 


21 ¥ooel. 


JOHN HABBERTON, 

9 V 

Author of ‘'^Helen's Babies ^ 



THE CHOICE SERIES : ISSUED SEMI-MONTHLY. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, TWELVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. NO. 61, 
OECEMSER 16, 1891, ENTERED AT THE NEW YORK, N. Y., POST OFFICE AS SECOND CLASS MAIL MATTER, 




■ H ^ vsCR/ . 



a 




if- 


COPYRIGHT, 1891, 




THE CHAUTAUQUANS. 


CHAPTER I. 

AN UNEXPECTED START. 

sir!” said Mr. Broad, owner of 
the Brinston Foundry, as he waited 
for his mail in the village store, which 
was also the post-office, and chatted 
with his pastor, “ your idea of socially 
uniting all classes in this village, by interesting 
them permanently in some single subject, is beau- 
tiful, but it won’t do, Mr. Whitton.” 

“But why not?” asked the minister, who was 
a young man and full of enthusiasm. 

“ Because people will associate themselves and 




8 


The Chautauquans. 


separate themselves according to their personal 
tastes and the sort of gossip they like.” 

“ What a dreadful future for the world to con- 
template!” murmured the minister. “It is too 
awful to believe !” 

“ No matter how awful it is or seems,” said the 
manufacturer, “it must be recognized if it is true, 
as I assure you it is. I am an older man than 
you — old enough to be your father — almost your 
grandfather — and I tell you that, as you go along 
in the course of your work, that what I have said 
will force itself upon you at all sorts of times and 
in all sorts of ways. I used to have, like you, a 
delightful notion that people of all classes might 
be interested in one and the same thing — that is, 
in something of importance, something that would 
lift them once in a while out of the humdrum of 
the day’s affairs and bring them into sympathy 
with each other; but the longer I live the more 
I’ve found that there is no such subject — that is, 
none that can be depended upon for daily use.” 

“ I am sure,” said the minister, “ that all classes 
unite heartily in the work of the church when a 
revival is in progress.” 

“Oh, yes; but they would do the same if a 


An Unexpected Start. 


9 


dog-fight was going on, or if some one had com- 
mitted a highly exciting robbery or murder ; they 
would do it through curiosity ; but curiosity isn’t 
interest, much less is it intelligence. Curiosity 
is the last thing in the world on which to base 
society, if you expect society to amount to any- 
thing.” 

Society,” said the minister, thoughtfully, “ is 
an aggregation of individuals who have been 
brought together by mutual interests.” 

“And who remain together,” added the manu- 
facturer, “ only so long as their mutual interests 
continue or present new features for consideration. 
The interests of society generally are selfish; so 
are people. As soon as their individual interests 
are cared for, as soon as each carries his or her 
point, there is nothing left but curiosity to hold 
them together. You know what that amounts 
to. It is the cause of all the silly gossip that is 
continually undermining characters and reputa- 
tions right here among us as well as everywhere 
else in the world. The interest of people in one 
another is so small and mean and selfish that 
sometimes 1 almost wish that we might have a 
great war, or a great epidemic, or some other 


lO 


The Chautauquans. 


trouble that would compel people to rise above 
their petty notions and narrow ruts, and take a 
sincere, intelligent and unselfish interest in their 
fellow-beings, for a little while at least. 1 don’t 
imagine they could stand it very long, but 
human nature really is grand in an emergency.” 

“ I am glad to hear you admit something good 
about it,” the minister remarked, with a sigh of 
relief. 

“ ril cheerfully say everything good about it 
I can ; Fm an enthusiastic believer in its possi- 
bilities. I steal a great deal of time from my 
business and apply it to thinking and in wonder- 
ing as to how to improve society in this little 
village of ours, though I suppose people wouldn’t 
believe it if I were to say so. I heartily wish 
every one well, but that does not help any one 
in the slightest degree to be more wise, more 
sensible or more sociable. I subscribe to all the 
lecture courses, buy concert tickets to distribute 
free among my working-people, and in every 
other way endeavor to bring people together 
pleasantly and help them to know and respect one 
another ; but Fm satisfied that most of my work 
is love’s labor lost. Most of the people will talk 


A 71 Unexpected Start, ii 

about a new subject — so long as it is new, but to 
expect them to take a continuing interest in it 
and follow it, as I have to follow my business to 
make it succeed, or as you have to stick to the- 
ology and read up, if you are going to be abreast 
of the times and not have people get tired of 
hearing you preach — why, it is simply impossible 
to expect it of them.” 

“ What is needed,” said the minister, “ is 
something of continuous interest ; something in 
which a number of persons, who are acquainted 
with each other, may be interested at the same 
time. To be sure of the interest continuing, the 
subject should be something which takes people 
away from their ordinary daily affairs ; of them 
they are sure to talk enough — and too much. It 
is very hard to meet any one who is not so full 
of his own affairs that he will unload part of 
them upon you unless you have the selfishness 
and tact to switch him off and interest him in 
some affair of yours. There should be subjects, 
and there are subjects, in which people of all 
classes, that have any intelligence at all, might 
have a common interest.” 

** I’d like to take your word for it, but really 


12 2 'he Chautauquans. 

I don’t know where or what they are,” was the 
repl}". “ Politics is the only one I know of upon 
which everybody will talk — they’ll do that only 
once in two or four years, and they do it so 
badly as to make you wish that — ” 

“ Mail’s open !” said the merchant-postmaster, 
giving each of the waiting men some letters. 
“ ’T would have opened sooner if I hadn’t been 
confused by hearing you chat. I couldn’t help 
listening, for I’ve that old subject upon my own 
mind. Here comes Miss Dawn — her mother 
has done a great deal for society in this town, 
and the daughter is just back from the city — 
perhaps, if you consult her, you may get ideas 
that will do you good.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” muttered Mr. 
Broad, ungallantly. “ I believe women — young 
and old alike — are more to blame than men, for 
the way society is going. It is they who seem 
to hate everything that isn’t trifling, so that a 
man who has any respect for himself seldom 
cares to spend an evening out anywhere, in a 
mixed company.” 

All three men raised their hats, as a young 
woman, apparently about twenty years of age, 


An U^iexpected Start, 




entered the store and approached the counter. 
The minister, advancing, said : 

“ Miss Dawn, we’ve been discussing a very 
serious subject, and we think you, with your 
unusual social advantages, may be able to throw 
some light upon it. Is there no way in which 
the people in a town like this may all be brought 
to take a general, continuous interest in some- 
thing which will lift them, once in a while, 
above the humdrum of daily affairs and the 
weakening influence of the gossip of which each 
little clique is full ?” 

The girl answered the minister’s serious ques- 
tion and more serious expression with a laugh 
so merry and long that the young man flushed 
and looked angry. 

“ If you had asked me yesterday,” she finally 
replied, “ I’m afraid I should have had to feel 
stupid and uncomfortable, and say : ‘ No ;’ but 

to-day — really, I feel as if I would like to start 
out as an apostle of a new dispensation — I believe 
that is the ministerial way of saying it? Last 
evening, I received from a cousin in the West, a 
circular describing a new method of home 
study, which requires only an hour a day, and 


H 


The Chautauqtians. 


upon which several classes of people out there 
have united, and have been brought together 
for conversation quite frequently. Ever since I 
read this circular my mind has been full of the 
idea, and I’ve got my mother excited about it, 
for she thinks the system is exactly what our 
village people need.” 

“ Do tell us what it is ?” eagerly asked the 
minister. 

“ It is the course of home study prepared by 
the Council of the Chautauqua Scientific and 
Literary Circle.” 

“Chautauqua?” said the manufacturer. 
“ That’s a camp-meeting, I think.” 

“ No,” said the girl ; “ it seems to be an educa- 
tional association.” 

“Umph! Another experiment, I suppose; 
one that will start with a great flourish of 
trumpets and end suddenly in sickly silence,” 
said the manufacturer. 

“ But it isn’t an experiment,” the young 
woman replied. “ It started very modestly a 
few years ago, it seems, and instead of failing, it 
has been improving, until now it numbers forty 
or fifty thousand students each year, and has 


An Unexpected Start. 


15 


graduated many thousands of people, each of 
whom has studied a prescribed course for four 
years, and about one-half of whom have met 
together once a week or fortnight in what are 
called local circles, to compare notes and talk 
over what they have been learning. My cousin 
is a devout church member — one of the girls 
who is always trying to do home missionary 
work ; but she writes that the Chautauqua cir- 
cle in her town has been of more service to the 
society there, and to good order, and to right 
living in general, than all the churches in the 
town combined.” 

“ Why, what on earth do they study to bring 
about such a result as that?” asked Broad. 

“ Merely such books as are studied in the 
academies and colleges ; such as I studied in the 
seminary,” said the girl. “ Isn’t it strange ? 
The result seems to come not so much from 
what they study as from fixing people’s minds 
for a little part of every day on something which 
makes them think, and which they can chat 
about with people who have been reading the 
same books. Another delightful thing about it 


i6 


The Chautauquans, 


is that parents and their larger children often 
follow the same studies together.” 

“ Mr. Broad,” said the minister, “ this seems 
to be the sort of thing that we need ; the very 
thing that we have been longing for while we 
have been conversing here.” 

“ Perhaps so,” was the reply. “ But who is 
going into it? Of course, those who have 
already been to school and college understand 
these subjects already ; others are not going to 
take them up on your advice dr mine, or even 
that of our estimable friend. Miss Dawn, and her 
mother. People don’t take kindly to the efforts 
of those who go among them with a missionary 
spirit.” 

“ But, Mr. Broad,” said the girl, “ those who 
you say won’t go into it because they already 
have followed the same studies, form one class, 
and do take an active part in it, my cousin 
writes me. I don’t know how it is with men, 
but speaking for myself and other girls, I know 
that we have already successfully forgotten most 
that we learned in school, and mother admits 
that she thinks most older women are in the same 
condition, and father says that what men haven’t 


MISS DAWN ENLISTING THE MINISTEK.— >S'ee Page 23 





















p 


rv 


,r 


!Jf 


A. 


“S, 


i* 






> ♦ 










A 


• 4 








r •« 


. 




*7 


V- < U\ 


i ’ .i ■ f-'. ■>.- -• 

k . '«» • - «-4 


* 


^»7 


T >-:.. 


, f'* .^15 




Itr- 




•■v . 






\y^ ‘--.XS ■'< 

f AW * T • - ■ - ■* ’^•‘ 

• 




f. 




,f.r -r^ r-"- ^7*‘>r 

r . o-v _ » 


:^ 9 j 


Mii'Ji, 


•^Sr- 

> •«• 






1 J 


•rt**’ 

^ /It 


' 4 ^ 




7 _ -•■ 






'D 


> r 


X 


V. 


.» I* fct. 




fk. 




.7; 


-W! 




» t 1 


M- 

f: . 

• ft-, 




“•cr 


». 



















> ,^_ 


•|>iL 


^*- 




L t 




V' JBTr ■■ 

^ r7^._jr 


-rY* 


wit:''' '■■>ifi..'^*-^'>-'^ 

^SB ■' ' -vv • '■• ■ ,>4^- -i,-^' 

i' • r ' ■■ - JW, TT^- KJSP 



4 «> .•- 

*■-' ^ ,X ’ 

JI ♦ ^ 





;b' : 



■‘if. » > 



«■» 




:V.< . v,";^;:!;;^' 






• _ 








An Ufiexpected Start, 


17 


had to apply in their business or in some other 
way in their daily life they forget very rapidly, 
and that they often find their half-grown chil- 
dren looking down on them for their apparent 
ignorance. At any rate, my cousin writes me 
that in the circle in her town every class is rep- 
resented — most of the ministers belong to it, 
several lawyers, physicians and other college 
graduates, and people from the best society — 
for, of course, a western town has its best soci- 
ety as well as ours. They have all of the local 
base-ball team, too, and some of the Junior 
Wheelmen’s Club.” 

“You don’t mean to say. Miss Dawn, that 
everybody meets on a common footing in these 
circles, just as they pretend to do in church ?” 
asked Mr. Broad. 

“ That is exactly what I do mean,” said the 
girl. “The studies are pursued only at home, 
in such time as people may be able to give to them ; 
less than an hour a day is required. The only 
formal conversations upon them takes place in 
meetings at stated periods ; but one great bene- 
fit of the system seems to be that neighbors and 
acquaintances chancing to meet each other are 


1 8 The Chautauquans. 

likel}^ — sometimes at least — to talk of what they 
have been reading. You see, there is a subject 
upon which they can talk which is neither the 
weather, nor the neighbors, nor their own per- 
sonal affairs. Mustn’t it be delightful?” 

“ Goodness !” exclaimed Mr. Broad, “ let us 
start a circle right here in Brinston at once. I’ll 
join it and sit up later at night — I’ll even neglect 
my business, if necessary, in order to keep up 
with the others. Dominie, may we count on 
you ?” 

Oh, to be sure,” said the minister. “ I have 
already about twice as much to do as I have time 
for, but a single hour a day can’t make my load 
noticeably heavier. We shall have Miss Dawn’s 
assistance, of course?” 

“ I shall join,” said the girl, “ and bring in my 
father and mother ; they’ve already promised, 
and I shall go proselyting around the neighbor- 
hood beside. I shall waylay every one I know, 
for almost any one can afford to take part in this 
study ; the books cost but a few dollars a year, 
and a single set may be used by an entire family ; 
so the expense needn’t stand in the way ; ^yher^ 


A 71 Unexpected Start. 


19 


it does, mother thinks that those who are well- 
to-do can afford to assist others." 

“A capital chance for you to reduce your own 
surplus, Mr. Broad," suggested the minister. 
“You might supply all your operatives with 
books — a set for each family." 

“ Not I !" said the manufacturer, emphatically. 
“ 1 don’t believe people, as a rule, appreciate a 
thing unless they earn it for themselves." 

“ By the way, Miss Dawn, will you allow us to 
see the description of this wonderful enterprise 
of which you have been telling us ?" 

“ With pleasure ; my cousin was thoughtful 
enough to send me a number of The Chautauquan 
and a lot of blank applications for membership." 

“ If you’ve no objection," said the merchant, 
“ I’ll join, too. By . the way, here comes a custo- 
mer of mine that Miss Dawn might like to try 
her hand on. It’s Mrs. Purkis ; she has a sickly, 
lazy husband, a large family and a laborious life, 
and always looks as if she deserved an early 
death, a comfortable burial, and an eternity of 
heaven afterward, for she certainly has had a 
hard time on earth. Ah, good morning, Mrs. 


20 


The Cliautauquans. 


Purkis; we’ve just started a society for home- 
reading, and we would like 3^ou to join.” 

‘‘What’s it about?” asked the woman, whose 
appearance bore out the impression which the 
storekeeper’s remarks had made. “ Is it to read 
receipts about cookin’ ?” 

“ Oh, no,” said Miss Dawn. 

“ Or raisin’ children ?” 

“ No ; it’s — ” 

“ Anythin’ about layiii’ down carpet, or cleanin’ 
paint? I’m sick to death with that sort of thing. 
One of my gals was worried into subscribin’ to a 
little monthl}^ paper called Everythin About the 
House, and it just makes my head ache to read it 
or to hear anybody" else read it. If I’ve got to 
read anythin’, I want it to be somethin’ that 
don’t have anything at all to do with the house, 
or any ol the work that I have to do durin’ the 
day ; I get enough of that sort of thin’ in prac- 
tice ; I don’t need no theories' about it.’’ 

“ In our society we’ll give you exactly what 
you want, Mrs. Purkis,” said Miss Dawn; “give 
you something to think about each day when 
you are tired of cooking and mending and house- 
cleaning and — ” 


An Unexpected Start. 


21 


“ Then I want it, whatever it is,” said the 
woman. “ I’ll take your word for it if you can 
promise that much, for it’ll be somethin’ like the 
beginnin’ of heaven for me or the takin’ of a 
nap in the afternoon, which, goodness knows ! I 
can’t do half as often as I need to — anythin’ to 
get a chance to stop thinkin’ about the daily 
grind once in a while. 1 don’t know, though ; 
I suppose, like ever 3 Thin’ else, this is goin’ to 
cost money. I ain’t got any to spare.” 

“ I’ll see that you are not put to any great ex- 
pense about it, Mrs. Purkis,” said Miss Dawn, 
“ if you’ll persuade your girls to begin it with 
you. They were so bright in school — we were 
in the same classes, you know, and I was so 
sorry they weren’t in the high-school with me. 
Just think how pleasant it will be to have some- 
thing to chat about in the family, once in a while, 
during rainy days or long evenings, when none 
of you have been able to get out and no one has 
come in with any news. Home does become so 
doleful for women sometimes.” 

“I guess I know it,” said the poor woman, and 
her face showed that she did. “ Though,” she 
continued, “ I didn’t s’pose you rich folks ever 


22 


The C/iautauquans. 


found it so. Well, I haven’t time to talk about 
it now, for I’m in a hurry to reach home. Two 
pounds of sugar, if you please, Mr. Brown.” 

When the woman had departed with her pur- 
chase, the storekeeper said confidentially to the 
others : 

“You may laugh at me, but I’m going to 
make that woman’s husband go into this thing, 
too ; as likely as not it may cure him of his 
drinking.” 

“Ha! ha! ha!” roared the manufacturer. 
“ The idea of that good-for-nothing fellow study- 
ing, or of study doing him any good ! Why, 
I’ve given that man work, and I’ve lent him 
money, and I’ve given him advice, and I’ve done 
everything that one man could for another, yet 
he is as worthless as he was the first day I knew 
him ; in fact, he’s a great deal worse, for he has 
been going on in his bad ways several years 
longer.” 

“ Well,” said the merchant, “ as there’s no one 
left to give him money any more now. I’ll see 
what effect a little credit will have upon him, 
provided he takes hold and keeps up with the 
rest of us.” 


An Unexpected Start, 


23 


“ This certainly will be a very much astonished 
town if any such thing comes to pass,” said Mr. 
Broad. “ Miss Dawn, if you’ll allow me. I’ll 
enlist in this Chautauqua scheme, under your 
management, and do all I can to get recruits. 
Of course, the minister will do likewise; prose- 
lyting is exactly in his line, and he has had a 
great deal of practice.” 

“ You’ll be far more effective at it than I, Mr. 
Broad,” said the minister, “ if you bring the 
matter before all the workmen in your mill. 
You manufacturers have a hold on people that 
ministers envy, 1 assure )^ou ; there is no one 
who has a greater influence in a community than 
the man who pays a lot of people their wages — 
absolutely no one.” 

“ Except the ladies,” said the storekeeper. 

Miss Dawn acknowledged the compliment, 
and was starting to leave the store when a young 
man entered. As he spoke to her the three men 
exchanged significant glances, and the manufac- 
turer exclaimed : 

“Enlist him, too, Miss Dawn; you’ll find Joe 
Warren a slow fellow to promise anything, so 


24 


The Chautauquans, 


you’ll have to keep at him and not let yourself 
be discouraged.” 

“ What is it?” asked the young man. 

'‘Anew scheme — splendid thing — Miss Dawn 
will tell you all about it. She has captured all 
three of us hard-headed fellows, but you young 
men aren’t as likely to be interested in anything 
that means work.” 

"Any mail for us, Mr. Brown? Thank you. 
May I walk a little way with you. Miss Dawn, 
and learn how far Mr. Broad is in earnest?” 

The two young people left the store together, 
and the manufacturer rubbed his hands gleefully 
as he said : 

" Joe ought to remember me at Christmas, for 
giving him an excuse for walking home with 
that girl.” 

" Do you think he will join ?” 

" Join ? Why, where do you ministers carry 
your eyes? He’d join anything, even a sewing- 
circle, to be near Alice Dawn. I hope ’twill end 
in a match, but it takes two to make a bargain, 
and the Dawns don’t think any man alive is good 
enough for their daughter.” 



CHAPTER 11. 

A SPARRING MATCH. 

As Joe Warren walked away with Miss Dawn, 
he was in a condition of mind to promise any- 
thing or attempt anything which the young 
woman might suggest. He had been born and 
reared in Brinston ; he knew each and every old 
family for a generation back : he was very fond 
of the society of the gentler sex, and he had con- 
cluded, after much thought and observation, 
that the sex had no more admirable member 
than Miss Dawn. He was a very cautious young 
man ; he had successfully avoided falling in love 
on slight excuse, such as a bright smile, or a 
roguish glance, or an irrepressible curl, or an 
effective pose of a little hand. There were 
several girls in Brinston about whom all the 
young men raved, yet Joe was not especially 
attracted by any one of them. When Miss Dawn 

[25] 


26 


The Chautauquans. 


spoke to him, however, and looked at him in her 
straightforward way, as if she meant all she said, 
and meant nothing else, the sensation she pro- 
duced was so unusual that Joe enjo3’ed it and 
wished that her glance might fall upon him 
oftener. Perhaps her bright e}^es and rosy 
cheeks and fine figure had something to do with 
it, for Joe certainly admired them. 

He thought he knew all about making love ; 
for hadn't he read novels by the dozen — yes, by 
the score? Occasionally he had tried to make 
love to Miss Dawn, but always retired from an 
attempt with the determination never again to 
make another until he was a great deal wiser. 
He would give a half-day to the work of prepar- 
ing an elaborate compliment for her, yet after he 
had uttered it, and seen that it had no more effect 
than any other form of civil speech, he mentally 
called himself bad names by the dozen. She 
would chat with him freely and delightfully 
about the ordinary’ affairs of the day, but the 
instant he attempted to turn the conversation 
into a personal vein she eluded it skillfully, and 
the subject would change back again almost 
before Joe knew it, in spite of his ablest attempts 


A Sparring Match. 


27 


to guide it to suit himself. Not even the most bril- 
liant of his efforts had ever been rewarded by a 
sidelong look, a conscious air, a languishing 
glance, or any other of the tokens by which 
most young women let men know that their 
attentions are being appreciated. The effect of 
all this was to make Joe sometimes wonder 
whether he loved the girl as most people love 
the unattainable — simply because she was unat- 
tainable. 

“ What were the minister and those two 
forefathers of the hamlet talking about ?” he 
asked, when he and Miss Dawn were fairly away 
from the store. 

“We had been talking of the Chautauqua 
course of home study,” the girl replied. “ They 
had never heard of it ; neither had I until yester- 
day. We’ve agreed — Mr. Broad and the minister, 
the postmaster, old Mrs. Purkis — ” 

“ Old Mrs. Purkis!” said Joe, with a laugh. 

“ Yes, They, she, my parents and I are to 
start a reading circle here. 1 do wish you would 
join and help us.” 

“ Ah, Miss Dawn,” said Joe, with a sigh, “ don’t 
you know what such things always come to in 


28 


The Chautauquans, 


a little village like this? Where’s the use of 
starting a reading circle when even the club 
meetings and prayer meetings aren’t well 
attended ? I’ve heard the minister complain, 
again and again, that scarcely any people could 
be got out to week evening services, which are 
supposed to be means of grace.” 

“ Perhaps,” suggested the girl, “ the readings 
may prove more interesting to some people than 
the meetings. They have a compensation to 
offer which some people may prefer, at present, 
to that which is to reward constant attendance 
at prayer meetings.” 

“ But such an odd set to get together, to say 
nothing of the scarce grown boys and girls,” 
remonstrated Joe. “ No one ever knew them to 
agree to be interested on any one subject for 
more than two minutes at a time, unless it 
chanced to be the price of eggs, or the necessity 
of keeping down the running expenses of the 
church, or reducing road-taxes. 1 don’t see 
how it can work.” 

“ Perhaps,” suggested the girl, “ you would 
see the matter more clearly if you knew any- 
thing about it.’’ 


A Sparring Match. 


29 


“Ah!” gasped Joe, “quite likely 3’ou are 
right. Please inform me, won’t you ?” 

“With pleasure,” Miss Dawn replied, and 
explained briefly what she had said to the others 
regarding the purpose and methods of the read- 
ing course. 

“ But what possible interest can it have for 
you ?” he asked. “ You graduated at a seminary 
of very high grade, and learned everything that 
this course professes to teach. As for me, 
although I left college three years ago, I haven’t 
yet recovered from my weariness over the 
dreadful routine of lessons — tired of a lot of 
things which I don’t suppose will ever be of the 
slightest use to me.” 

“ If you really are sure that they never will be 
of any use to you, why not join us and try to 
make them of use to some one else? I wouldn’t 
ask you to do more than I am myself volunteer- 
ing to do.” 

“ Ah,” said Joe, “ that is different.” Then 
with the hope of succeeding in a compliment, he 
said: “You should remember that you’re a 
charming young woman, while I’m merely an 
ordinary man. People will listen delightedly to 


30 


The Cha2itauquans. 


you and do a great deal for you, whereas I 
wouldn’t interest them at all.” 

“Oh, Mr. Warren, don’t talk nonsense,” said 
the girl ; “ people who really desire to learn 
something, aren’t going to be particular as to 
whom they learn from. They’ll be willing to 
accept information and counsel and encourage- 
ment even from a young man who has been 
only three years out of college, and has for- 
gotten a great deal of what he learned while 
there.” 

“ But,” said Joe, rallying, though with some 
confusion, until he saw that Miss Dawn did not 
look mischievous, “ the books of which you 
speak are on the very subjects which I studied 
at school and college ; why should I read them 
all over again, as I should be obliged to do if 1 
were to join this new class 

“ For the same reason which I shall have for 
reading them, I suppose — for that which you 
have just explained yourself— because you have 
forgotten so much. I’ve forgotten most that I 
learned in the seminary ; my father and mother 
are intelligent people, but they make a similar 
confession. Besides, where is the use of our 


A Sparrmg Match. 


31 


discussing the subject and doubting the useful- 
ness of the course, when professional men and 
educated women are reading it year after year, 
again and again, for the sole purpose of keeping 
in mind what they’ve already studied but for- 
gotten, and keeping abreast of the newer people 
whom the seminaries and colleges are turning 
out year by year? The best people need some- 
thing to think about beside their ordinary daily 
affairs ; they need something in which they can 
hide themselves away once in a while, after a 
day of hard work or worry or triviality or 
anything else that blunts human sensibilities. 
Besides, the very young need to have some 
interests in common with their elders.” 

Joe laughed as he replied : 

“ You talk like a mature matron. Miss Dawn, 
instead of a charming young woman. I’ve 
always imagined that your time was fully occu- 
pied with affairs wholly delightful to you. I’m 
sure that you’re admired by every one and have 
an enviable family circle, and you always look 
happy and contented.” 

“ To look discontented, no matter what may 
be the provocation, is to commit the unpardon- 


32 


l^he Chautauquans. 


able sin,” the young woman replied ; “ but I do 
wish you young men could in some way get rid 
of your silly ideas about girls and the way they 
spend their time. No girl can always look 
light-hearted unless she is selfish and shallow, 
and has her every wish gratified.” 

“ But you,” said Joe, still intent upon showing 
that he had observed Miss Dawn closely, “ seem 
to be interested in everything you see and hear. 
I’ve seen you chatting pleasantly with people of 
all classes. It seems to me that your life is full 
of interests, and that you do not neglect any of 
them.” 

“ So far as it is so, I owe it all to good com- 
pany at home; I find no more inspiring society 
than my father and my mother.” 

Joe quickly looked sidewise, to see if the last 
remark should be construed as a snub ; but as 
the young woman seemed to be innocent of any 
such intention, he made haste to say : 

“I don’t for an instant doubt it; but I wish, 
as that is the case, that I might know them 
better.” 

“ I am sure,” said the girl, “ that the fault is 
only your own if you are not already acquainted 


A Spa^'Ting Match. 


33 


with them. No one is fonder than they of the 
society of men and women younger than them- 
selves.” 

Joe’s heart rose — a little ; he felt that the last 
remark might possibly be construed into an 
intimation that the daughter might not be averse 
to his calling frequently. His attempts at com- 
pliment and semi-flirtation having ended in 
failure, he surrendered himself to the guidance 
of his common sense, and asked : 

“ If they, too, are going to take this reading 
course, I shall follow their example, if only for 
the opportunity of conversing freely with them. 
But—” 

“ That,” said Miss Dawn, interrupting, “ is the 
most sensible remark I’ve been able to get from 
you thus far.” 

Joe felt indignant, but tried not to betray his 
feelings as he went on : 

“ I hope, Miss Dawn, that you’re not going to 
give up all the pleasures of the season for the 
sake of studying hard once more?” 

“ Bless me, no ; I haven’t the slightest inten- 
tion of doing anything of the kind. I’m going 
to enjoy all the driving, tennis, boating, bath- 


34 


The Chautauqtians. 


ing, walking and cycling that the season may 
offer/’ 

“ The parties and dances, too?” 

“Yes, I suppose so — some of them at least, 
and endure the remainder.” 

“Endure?” echoed Joe. “I don’t know of 
any one who seems to enjoy them more heartily 
than you.” 

‘‘ Appearances are deceitful sometimes, then. 
I enjoy them after a fashion. I enjoy some of 
them very much, but generally there’s the same 
set of faces, the same round of amusements ; 
nothing new, no change of any sort in any of 
them. There’s the same lot of compliments to 
listen to, and very often there’s even the same 
dresses to look at. You men laugh sometimes 
at women’s apparent interest in dress ; but do 
you realize that at most of the entertainments 
given, here and elsewhere, the dresses are the 
only new features there are to see and be inter- 
ested in ? People seem to leave their brains at 
home when they go to parties — at least, my 
acquaintances do.” 

Joe started. He distinctly remembered hav- 
ing chatted with Miss Dawn at several parties 


A Sparring Match, 


35 


that very season. Was it possible that his con- 
versation had been entirely brainless? 

“ It is so different,” the girl continued, “ when 
one takes even a quiet walk about the village, 
over the familiar streets, past the same old 
houses that have been looked at a thousand 
times before. There always is something new 
to see that brings new thoughts; but parties — 
oh, dear ! — after one has been to several hundred 
they do begin to grow tiresome.” 

“ I assure you that we men don’t find them 
so,” said Joe, gallantly. “We can never grow 
tired of looking at a lot of charming women.” 

“ I suppose I ought to return the compliment, 
but really I can’t do it and tell the truth. I 
admit there are some men who are quite inter- 
esting to look at. Unfortunately, however, they 
are those who generally I wish would never 
open their mouths, for they are dreadfully stupid 
company.” 

Joe began to wish that he had not met Miss 
Dawn that day. His mirror frequently informed 
him that he was quite a presentable young man. 
Was it possible that he was one of those to 
whom the girl had alluded so slightingly ? 


36 The Chautauquaiis, 

“ I don’t see,” continued the young woman, 
meditatively, “ why men should consider that 
dress suits and a large assortment of small talk 
make sufficient equipment for a party. Accord- 
ing to the customs of polite society it is the men 
who begin the conversation, and you really 
can’t imagine how much trouble some women 
have in trying to divert the smallest of small 
talk into some channel where it may be lost.” 

“ But what,” asked Joe, again becoming indig- 
nant, yet trying not to show it, “ would you 
have us talk about? Civil service reform or the 
transmigration of souls or the new pronuncia- 
tion of Latin? How long do you suppose we 
would be able to have any one listen to us?” 

“ I shouldn’t expect .you to talk on such sub- 
jects — at least, to any greater extent than you 
talk them among yourselves, but I do insist that, 
if women are the adorable creatures that men 
pretend, we deserve something better than the 
ocean of small, talk, which is all we now expect 
when we go to parties. My father says the rea- 
son is that young men nowadays are too lazy to 
think, and sometimes I fear he is right. If he is 
not, then young men must have a very low and 


A Sparrmg Match. 


37 


insulting opinion of woman’s intellect, and I, for 
one, must protest against being talked to from 
any such standpoint.” 

Joe quickly changed his mind about the desir- 
ability of knowing Miss Dawn’s father better, 
and he made haste to turn the conversation, for 
he could not recall a party which he had attended 
while in a frame of mind which was likely to 
make him converse brilliantly. He was obliged 
to admit to himself that at social gatherings he 
was attracted principally by pretty faces and 
figures and sprightliness of manner. Yet he 
could not help laughing to himself as he asked : 

“ How do you imagine a course of study, such 
as you have suggested, will make conversation 
more interesting ?” 

“ I imagine that careful reading of any kind 
will put thinking habits into some persons who 
at present never think at all, except about their 
personal interests. Reading and study increase 
in some people the power of concentration — so 
my teacher at the seminary said — and teach them 
to talk interestingly of what they see and know. 
Why any old college professor of my acquaint- 
ance is brighter, cheerier company than almost 


38 


The Chaiitauquans. 


any young man I have met, yet he never talks 
shop. I know many women who chat delight- 
fully and improvingly when they are together 
so I suppose there are some men who can be 
equally entertaining, but if there are, why don’t 
they show it? Do they think us inferior 
beings? 1 assure you I feel offended when- 
ever I approach a party of men and find them 
at once letting down their conversation to what 
they assume is my intellectual level. The only 
way for us girls to have a real good chat is 
to have a party once in a while all by ourselves.” 

“ Is it as bad as that — as good, 1 mean ?” 

“Yes, and I think a new interest in the town 
would perhaps bring about an agreeable change. 
The reading course is cheap ; it consumes very 
little time ; so it won’t impose too much labor on 
any one’s intellect. I should imagine that young 
men — those whom I see lounging whenever I go 
shopping or to the post-office — could take the 
four years’ course in one, and still have much 
spare time on their hands. One reason I have 
talked so earnestly with you on the subject is 
that you seem to have a great deal of influence 
among the young men. Do go to recruiting. I 


A Sparring Match. 


39 


ought to say to you that in talking the matter 
over at home we imagined it might be well to 
make the course to some extent a social affair — 
at least to hold the meetings of the local circle, 
should one be organized, at members’ residences. 
The village, as of course you know, is full of 
little sets and cliques, each rather jealous or sus- 
picious of all the others, although the members 
meet each other pleasantly enough at school or 
church. Isn’t it odd?” 

“You don’t really mean to say, Miss Dawn, 
that you would have the circle meet in your 
parlors ?” 

The home of the Dawns was not expensively 
furnished, like some others in the town, but it 
was Brinston custom, for some reason, to allude 
to it as a model of taste and beauty. 

“ Imagine some of the cubbish Junior Wheel- 
men sprawling in your parlor, and old Mrs. 
Purkis, in her best calico dress, sitting in one of 
your mother’s much admired reception chairs!” 

“ Poor old woman 1” sighed Alice Dawn, “ I 
suppose it would do her a great deal of good ; so 
sit there she shall.” 


40 


The Chautauquans. 


“ You seem to be preparing yourself for the 
missionary field.” 

“ Not at all. My mother has already asked 
some persons, I am sure, to come to our house 
and help organize a_ circle. Mrs. Purkis and any 
one else — every one else who has character 
enough to begin the course, and persistence 
enough to continue it, will be welcome, not only 
at the first meeting, but at all others that may be 
held at our house.” 

“ What a radical re-organization of society !” 
murmured the young man. “ I suppose we may 
expect to see Mrs. Purkis and Postmaster Brown 
dancing together at the Assembly Ball a few 
months later, and all the fifteen-year-old boys 
and girls lining the walls and gravely discussing 
geology and English literature.” 

“ Perhaps,” the girl replied, “ though I 
shouldn’t wonder if the reading-circle were to 
deprive the Assembly of some of its shining 
lights.” 

“ But seriously, isn’t it a great risk to take ? 
I wouldn’t presume to doubt the wisdom of a 
woman of your mother’s great social experience, 
but you must know that the common people are 


A Sparring Match. 


41 


likely -to impose upon the better classes when 
they find an opportunity.” 

“ 1 don’t understand why people are to be 
regarded as common merely because they don’t 
attach great importance to certain tastes and cus- 
toms. My father says that many of the common 
people, so called, are quite as well educated and 
well behaved as any of their neighbors — as well 
educated and well behaved as any one else — for 
the distinction, as a rule, is merely one of com- 
parative money. They’re as sensitive about their 
reputation and appearance as the most trembling 
debutante in society. Our fear is not that they 
may impose upon us, but that they may refuse to 
come, partly for fear that they may not be well 
enough dressed. 1 am going to call upon a num- 
ber of girls who were at school with me, beg 
them to take the Chautauqua course, and to come 
to our house to assist in forming a circle. • 1 am 
determined that they shan’t have any excuse for 
remaining away if I can talk them out of it by 
showing a friendly spirit. Why can’t you do the 
same sort of work among the young men of all 
classes? You have leisure, intelligence, tact and 
the good will of everyone. Do make use of all 


42 


The Chautauquans, 


these unusual qualities, for the benefit of the 
young men and large boys of the town, by 
showing them how to spend some of their 
time to better purpose than lounging at club^ and 
making the air of the main street offensive with 
tobacco smoke. Won’t you do it ?” 

Would he do it? Oh, wouldn’t he! To be 
asked by Alice Dawn, and in such a tone, accom- 
panied by such an earnest appeal from her 
speaking eyes, to help her — to do the same 
kind of work that she was doing — why he would 
have promised, had she asked him, to wear rags 
and sweep the streets. He made haste to 
reply : 

“With all my heart. Miss Dawn. You may 
depend upon me.” 

“Thank you; I was sure I might. Here we 
are at my gate. Do call soon and let us know 
how you have succeeded.” 

Joe Warren walked slowly back homeward and 
asked himself if he really was happy. Certainly 
he was exultant. In spite of some uncompli- 
mentary remarks, Alice Dawn had manifested 
confidence in him; she had attributed to him 
some qualities which he knew all women 


A Sparring Match. 


43 


admired. For the rest, she had looked at him- 
in her own unapproachable way; he did not 
know why it was, but there seemed to him 
something ennobling in the glance of that girl’s 
eyes. Why was it? There were other girls in 
the village who had remarkable eyes, in one 
way or other — languishing or inviting or 
roguish or fascinating, but none of them resem- 
bled Alice Dawn. Why, then, with the memory 
of her glance to abide with him, and an excuse 
to call soon and frequently, should he not feel 
entirely happy ? He muttered the explanation 
to himself as he sauntered homeward: 

“ She hasn’t an equal among women ; she is 
perfection itself; she is simply an angel; but she^ 
is too full of ideas to ever fall in love. There is 
the mischief that the higher education of women 
is playing.” 



CHAPTER III. 

AN UNUSUAL GATHERING. 

“There hasn’t been such a representative 
gathering in this village before, since the Widow 
Beanblossom’s barn burned down.” 

The speaker was Mr. Broad, the manufac- 
turer, and he addressed himself to Postmaster 
Brown, who replied : 

“ I guess you’re right. It even beats the great 
day at the post-office, when the blizzard kept us 
from getting any mails from the south and east 
for three days.” 

There certainly was a great crowd — the main 
floor of the Dawn mansion would seat a hun- 
dred people, provided they were packed closely 
together, and on this occasion the parlors were 
so crowded with women that men could simply 
stand in the hall and about the doors. The 
[44] 


« 


\ 4 n Unustial Gathering, 45 

several people who had taken the enterprise in 
hand and endeavored to get recruits, had not 
imagined that Mrs. Dawn’s invitation would be 
so generally accepted. 

“ Brown, the question is,” said Mr. Broad, 
“ how many of these people came here to-night 
through interest in the reading course, and how 
many out of mere curiosity, or so as to be able 
to say that they had visited Mrs. Dawn ?” 

“ Hard to tell,” the postmaster replied. “ I 
should say half and half would be about a fair 
estimate.” 

To properly dispose and manage the guests 
for this unusual assemblage, required all the 
tact of the Dawn family. The first persons to 
arrive were Broad and his daughters ; the man- 
ufacturer had brought his family up to punctual 
habits, and, with them, eight o’clock meant 
eight o’clock — not five minutes past. The 
Broad girls were fairly educated, and had good 
manners ; they fell at once into animated chat 
with their host, but when Postmaster Brown 
and his two sons arrived, the conversation began 
to labor under some restraint, for the Broad 
girls had never regarded the Brown boys as 


46 


The Chautauquans. 


exactly “ in society.” The young men were 
entirely respectable, but they worked with their 
own hands on the little farm which their father 
owned near the edge of the village, and the 
Broad girls had decided ideas about people who 
did their own work. The arrival of a fashion- 
able family or two put new life into the conver- 
sation ; but ten minutes later the Broads were 
paralyzed by the entry of old Mrs. Purkis and 
her two daughters, the three women looking as 
awkward and embarrassed and uncomfortable 
as was possible even for people whose daily life 
seems a continual apology for living at all. 
Mrs. Dawn went bravely to their rescue, and 
was assisted by her daughter, who had to tear 
herself away from the Brown boys, but who first 
had the forethought to whisper to some of her 
more fashionable acquaintances that those boys 
were really two of the nicest of the fellows 
whom she had met at school and that they 
always looked and acted as if they had retained 
all their old manners and were gaining new. 

Mr. Broad nudged the postmaster, and said ; 

“Brown, how about Purkis himself, eh ? You 
were going to drag him into this enterprise.” 


An Unusual Gathering. 


47 


“Yes; but I didn’t promise to do it all at 
once, though the fellow did assure me that he 
would come with his family to-night I suspect 
he really did come as far as the door, and then 
lost his courage. I don’t wonder, either, 
although I gave him credit for a new suit of 
clothes — pretty cheap ones, I admit — with the 
understanding that he was to come.” 

Joe Warren entered a moment or two later, look- 
ing less at ease than Miss Dawn had ever seen him. 
After greeting the hostess he quickly succeeded 
in drawing Alice aside, and whispered to her : 

“ I’ve kept my word, but I’m afraid you’ll be 
sorry.” 

“ Where are they ?” asked the girl, looking 
about the room. 

“J3h, the 3 ^’re coming ; they’ll be here. There 
are eleven of them, too, not one of whom ever 
was in this house before.” 

“ Be careful to watch for them, and present 
each one to mother when he comes, and then to 
me, unless you see we recognize them and 
know them when you approach us. We know 
more people by sight and name than perhaps 
you imagine. Don’t allow any one of them tQ 


48 


The Chant auquans. 


feel uncomfortable for an instant. If they’re 
acquaintances of yours, I promise you we will 
do all in our power to make them feel at 
ease.” 

“There are some of them,” said Warren, 
“ who 1 don’t believe could feel at ease unless 
they had the front of a building to lean against.” 

“ They may lean against the wall of the room, 
and there are also door-casings and window- 
casings in abundance. After every one has 
arrived I am going to take you about and present 
you to all the girls whom 1 have invited. Tm 
sure you won’t forget that they’re my guests 
for the evening, although perhaps you haven’t 
been in the habit of meeting them elsewhere 
since you left school.” 

“You may count upon me,” said Joe, 
“ although I confess it will be a new experience 
— perhaps very amusing.” 

“Why amusing?” asked the girl, sharply. 
“ Does being a gentleman deprive one of the 
ordinary sympathies of human nature ?” 

“ Oh, no,” said Joe, somewhat embarrassed, 
noting with delight that two of the young men 


An Unusual Gathering. 


49 


whom he had invited were just entering the 
door. 

The couple had not many more opportunities 
to converse with each other during the evening, 
for people soon began to arrive rapidly, and fill 
the room so closely that the fifty extra chairs 
which Mr. Dawn had borrowed by way of a 
joke from one of the furniture dealers were all 
put in requisition. The ladies of the house 
exerted themselves to the utmost so to place 
people that conversation would not flag, and 
they were so successful that in a very few 
moments the hum of voices was as loud and 
continuous as in the most fashionable party in 
the world. As the throng increased, all the 
men present, even those of whose manners Joe 
Warren had doubted, gave up their seats to 
ladies, and the halls were soon filled with a lot 
of men, whom Mr. Dawn did his best to make 
entirely at home. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Whitton, the minister, was 
hurrying toward the house after a prolonged 
visit to a sick parishioner. As he turned a 
corner under a lamp he saw a figure which, in 
spite of clothes of unusual neatness, he could 


50 


The Chautauqiians. 


not help recognizing as that of old Purkis; 
though why the man should be called old he did 
not know, for he had heard that Purkis was a 
mere boy when he entered the arm}^ at the 
beginning of the civil war. 

“ Good evening, Mr. Purkis,” he said, stopping 
and laying his hand on the man’s shoulder. Y ou 
are going the wrong way*. Mr. Brown told me 
you were going to Dawn’s to-night with )^our 
wife and daughters.” 

“Yes,” said Purkis, in a listless tone. “I 
went. I took my women folks there.” 

“ But he expected you to remain there. We’re 
counting on you ; we want you to help this enter- 
prise along.” 

“ Don’t chaff me, Mr. Whitton. It isn’t fair; I 
can’t stand it, and I won’t — not to-night, anyhow.” 

“ My dear fellow,” said the minister, “ I’m not 
chaffing you. What do you mean? I meant 
exactly what I said. We do need you to help 
this enterprise along. We have talked the mat- 
ter over a great deal, and we know there are a 
number of men over whom you have consid- 
erable influence, and they are just the men 
whom we want to get into it.” 


A n Unusual Gat her mg. 


51 


“You’re mistaken,” said Purkis ; “Brown’s 
been foolin’ you. I ain’t got no influence over 
any sort of people.” 

“ That’s nonsense, Mr. Purkis ; you’ve lots of 
old associates about this town — men who were 
in the war with you, and — ” 

“ Yes, and some of them are sorry to meet 
me in the street because they think they ought 
to say something, and that Pm not worth say- 
ing it to. 1 know what they think about me ; 
I don’t know as I can blame them much, but — ” 

“ Mr. Purkis, you’ve got a fit of the blues 
to-night.” - 

“ Oh, Pm goin’ into the thing, Mr. Whitton. 
Pve promised my wife and the gals, and Pm 
goin’ to stick to it. Pm goin’ to read with ’em 
and help ’em along. I ain’t such a fool as 1 look. 
1 went to school when I was a boy and learned a 
good deal. I was at the head of the class often 
and often. ’Tain’t no lack of brains that is the 
matter with me.” 

“ Then stand by your wife and daughters at 
the meeting to-night. That’s the proper place 
for you. Come along.” 

So saying, the minister put his arm through 


52 - 


The Chautaitquans. 


that of Purkis, turned the man and walked him 
toward the house. There was silence for a 
moment or two, for Purkis had so long been 
accustomed to 3delding to any influence or 
will stronger than his own that he did not know 
how to make resistance, yet he said : 

“ I don’t believe you know, Mr. Whitton, how 
mean you’re bein’ to me. Do you know what 
everybody’ll think and say if I go into that 
house? They’ve seen me around the town 
drunk, an’ slouchin’ an’ laz^^ an’ shabby, an’ just 
as soon as I go into the house you’ll see every- 
body’s head go toward everybody' else’s head 
an’ they’ll begin to whisper an’ — I can’t stand it 
— not before my wife and daughters.” 

“Oh, nonsense, Mr. Purkis. You mustn’t 
imagine everybody looks at you and nothing 
else when there is a whole crowd of people 
around. Why, man alive, you’re too conceited 
to live if you think }^our personal appearance 
attracts so much attention as all that. If 3^ou 
are at all fearful on the subject, though, I 
promise you that you shall have a quiet, incon- 
spicuous place somewhere in the rear of the 
rooms. I’ll give you my word that I will go 


An Umisual Gathering. 


53 


with you and see that 3’ou’re not brought too 
prominently to the front. But don’t go back on 
your wife and daughters. How do 3^011 know 
but they’re feeling uncomfortable? They’d feel 
a great deal better if they had you beside them.” 

Purkis did not reply, although the minister 
was sure two or three times that the man was 
trying to withdraw his arm and get away. 

As the two reached the house and walked up 
the path toward the door, Purkis gave a violent 
twitch, saying : 

“You must excuse me to-night, Mr. Whitton ; 
really, you must. Pll give you my word that 
Pll go some other time; to-night Pm all 
unstrung.” 

The minister tightened the grip of his arm 
upon the other, and replied: 

“Just the reason wh3^ 3^011 should be strung 
up, my dear fellow. Come along; we’ll attend 
to you.” 

They were now on the broad doorstep ; the 
minister could feel his companion trembling 
violently. The door was slightly ajar. Whitton 
placed both hands on Purkis’s shoulders, 
touched the door with his own foot, and in an 


54 


The Cha7itauquans, 


instant the frightened man was in the hall and 
having his hand grasped by Mr. Dawn, who 
said : 

“ Mr. Purkis, I’m ever so glad to see you. I 
was afraid you wouldn’t come. Your wife and 
daughters are having a pleasant time inside. 
Go right in and join them.” 

“ Don’t let us disturb the company, Mr. 
Dawn,” said the minister, quickly. “ Mr. Purkis 
and I will manage to find room for ourselves 
some way.” 

Then he kept his promise and retired the 
unwilling guest to an inconspicuous corner of 
the room, although they ran the gauntlet of two 
or three dozen men while doing so. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Dawn, 
rapping upon a little table at one end of the par- 
lors, “a temporary figure-head is sometimes 
necessary in a large gathering of people, and as 
I haven’t been of any other service to the enter- 
prise of which you have all been informed, I 
have been selected for that position. You all 
know the purpose for which we have gathered. 
I suspect my estimable family have talked some 
of you almost to death on the subject, but they 


A 71 Unusual Gathering. 55 

mean well, and I hope you will forgive them : it 
seems to be the custom in organizing a local 
circle. What we are to do is more than 1 am able 
to inform you, but all are expected to inform 
themselves speedily and act accordingly, and to 
hold themselves to the full performance of their 
duties. The first officer necessary to elect is 
president, and I will take advantage of my own 
brief authority and position to nominate our 
fellow-townsman, Mr. Broad. He is, I believe, 
the only man in Brinston who is accustomed to 
managing a large number of people, and I 
strongly suspect that we, as a reading-class, will 
need to be managed with a pretty strong hand 
at first.” 

“ Second the motion,” said some one. 

“ Moved and seconded that Mr. Broad be 
elected president of this organization.” 

Mr. Broad rose to his feet and endeavored to 
excuse himself, but the temporary president 
declined to listen, and continued : 

“ All in favor of the motion, say aye.” 

There was a general response. 

“ Contrary, no. Elected. Mr. Broad will 


56 


The Chautauqitans. 


please report for duty at once, and take the 
chair which 1 vacate.” 

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Broad, not 
entirely at ease, “ I think you have made an 
unwise selection, for there are some people in 
this town who may have formed the impression, 
through my manner in business, that I’m an 
overbearing man and rather hard to get along 
with ; the only reason for this is that I have 
always gone on the principle that what ought 
to be done must be done, and I want to warn 
all of you in advance, as most of you are grown 
people and have something to do in the world, 
more or less, that to carry this thing through, 
each for yourself, you have got to push, press, 
urge and insist, quite as much as I have to do 
in my factory. I also assure you, however, to 
put your minds at ease, that you’ll get very 
little pushing or urging from me ; if I’m going 
to read this course, I shall need all the spare 
force I have to keep myself up to the mark. 
I’ve been reading the circular, and I find that 
in a large town a circle generally has two or 
three vice-presidents, in addition to a treasurer, 
the reasons for which will occur to you as we 


A n Unus7ial Gathering, 


57 ' 

go along. Following the precedent thus set, I 
would like to know the pleasure of the meeting 
as to who shall be first vice-president.” 

Mrs. Dawn,” shouted Joe Warren. 

“ Second the motion,” several voices. 

“ Moved and seconded that Mrs. Dawn be 
elected first vice-president ; those in favor, 
please say aye.” 

“ Aye,” responded every one. 

“ Noes will not be asked for,” said the presi- 
dent. “ Whom will you put in nomination for 
second vice-president ?” 

“ Postmaster,” said two voices at once. 

“ A great deal of sense has been displayed by 
this organization since the great mistake it made 
in electing its president,” said Mr. Broad. “ All 
in favor of Mr. Brown’s election, please say 
aye.” 

Mr. Brown was elected, at which his sons 
looked pleased. 

“ Do we need a third vice-president ?” asked 
the chairman. 

“ Mr. President,” said the minister, arising, 

“ we most assuredly do need a third vice-presi- 
dent. We need a number of people to enter 


58 


The Chautmiquans. 


this circle as members, whom I’m not sure the 
rest of us can successfully reach. I move you, 
sir, that as third vice-president we elect Mr. 
James Madison Purkis, and count upon him to 
bring a lot of his associates into the organ- 
ization.” 

“ Capital suggestion,” said the chairman, 
frowning at one or two young persons who 
indulged in giggles and titters. 

The motion was put and carried, while the 
nominee literally tottered. As soon as he could 
recover from his astonishment he exclaimed : 

“Mr. Chairman, I — I — I — I can’t do anything 
of this kind.” 

“The gentleman is out of order,” blandly 
remarked the chairman. “Excuses must be 
made before nominations are voted upon. Mr. 
Purkis is duly elected third vice-president of 
this association, and must be obeyed and 
respected accordingly. Will some or^s nominate 
a person for secretary and treasurer ?” 

“Mr. Joseph Warren,” said Alice Dawn. 

“ Good idea !” said the chairman. “ Give that 
young man something to do ; he probably won’t 
have to take care of any money.” 


59 


An Unusual Gathering. 


Joe Warren was duly elected, and then, after 
some discussion, the formal meeting adjourned, 
although the participants remained for some 
time chatting with one another and becoming 
better acquainted, as some of them afterward 
said, than they ever had been, while Alice 
Dawn’s sixteen-year-old brother made some of 
his awkward schoolmates feel entirely at home. 
The postmaster, the manufacturer, the minister, 
Mrs. Dawn and Alice, gathered after the crowd 
had almost disappeared, and Mr. Broad rubbed 
his hands, as he said : 

“Well, the little arrangement we made in 
caucus went through splendidly, didn’t it? I’m 
glad to have something decent to apply polit- 
ical methods to.” 

Meanwhile the Purkis family was on its way 
home ; Mrs. Purkis clinging to her husband’s 
arm as it she never again could let go of it. The 
conversation on the way was restricted to remarks 
by the girls on the personal appearance of some 
attendants of their own sex. The father had 
nothing to say, and the mother kept him com- 
pany in his silence, but when finally the family 
had retired, the man said to his wife ; 


6o 


The ChatUauqtLans, 


“Oh, Maria! I dasn’t go out of the house 
to-morrow mornin’ hardly. I’ll be afeared to be 
seen on the street by any of the fellers that I 
know. I’ll be afeared to meet the small bo 3 ^s 
after they have been to school and heard about 
it like they will be sure to.” 

“ Don’t you do nothin’ of the sort,” said Mrs. 
Purkis ; “ I’m proud of you — I never was so 
proud of you in my life — not even the day 
that I married you ; nothin’ that’s happened in 
twenty year has done me so much good as what 
happened to you to-night.” 

“ But you know I can’t be of any use to them 
folks, Maria. Wha't do you suppose any feller 
of the kind I know, will say to me if I ask him 
to go into a thing like that? He’ll just tease the 
life out of me, an’ make me mad, an’ then I’ll get 
into a fight.” 

“ Them men didn’t put you in that place for 
nothin’, Madison,” said the wife. “ Now you go 
ahead and do what you’re bein’ put up to. If 
you’re afeared to do it for your own sake, try to 
do it for mine. I ain’t a-callin’ of no names, but 
I do think it is time you done a little somethin’ 


A n Unusual Gathering, 


6i 


for me, particularly as it don’t cost you a cent of 
money, nor any hard work with your hands.” 

“ I have been a mean, good-fo»r-nothin’ husband, 
Maria.” 

“ Not as bad as that, Madison — not as bad as 
that. You never was where I didn’t believe you 
could pull yourself together and turn out a good 
deal better if you’d only give your mind to it.” 

“ Do you really mean to say, Maria, that 3^ou’ve 
still got any faith an’ trust in me?” 

“ Lots of it — lots of it,” replied the woman. 
“ That ain’t all, it’s all I have got in the world, 
except the gals, to have any faith and trust in. 
Now don’t go back on me, Madison — don’t go 
back on me.” 



CHAPTER IV. 

TALKING IT OVER. 

As Joe Warren sat in his room at night, after 
the organization of the local circle, and looked 
in his mirror, he did not see the face ot a young 
man who seemed to be entirely at ease with him- 
self. The face he saw was that of one who 
seemed to be thinking very industriously about 
something for which he was not finding a satis- 
factory answer. It was the face of a man in a 
brown study, and Joe seemed suddenly weary 
of contemplating it, for he sprang out of his 
chair and began to pace the floor. He threw his 
hands behind him and dropped his head, as he 
said : 

“ I really wonder what it all will come to ? 
She nominated me for secretary ; that certainly 

looks as if she cares something for me. Yet on 
[62] 


Talking It Ovef\ 


63 

the other hand, if she really does care for me, 
how could she, being a woman — a young woman, 
and a very smart one, too — give herself away by 
nominating me before a whole roomful of people, 
all of whom know both of us ? I wonder if she 
really did it because she thinks I am lazy and 
ought to have something to employ my mind and 
hands ? If I thought that I would resign at once. 
No, I wouldn’t either ; because that would offend 
her, and Fd be worse off than I am now. I won- 
der if she and old Broad have been discussing 
me ? That remark of his about giving me some- 
thing to do was decidedly ungentlemanly. Con- 
found that man, and all men like him ! They 
don’t seem to have a bit of sympathy for young 
men. I don’t believe they ever were young 
themselves ; they must have been mere money- 
spinners from the time they were boys. I sup- 
pose that man traded jack-knives, sold blackber- 
ries, hoed corn and did an3Thing and everything 
else he could do all his life long to make a quarter, 
and then stuffed the money away and never spent 
a cent of it on anything to enjoy himself with. 
I don’t doubt it a bit. Probably that is the rea- 
son he is rich now. Well, I don’t begrudge him 


64 


The Chautauqtians. 


his money ; he works hard enough for it ; but I’ll 
be hanged if Fll be made a laughing-stock by 
him ! 

“Still, I’m going to have a chance. I have 
promised her that I’ll look after the young 
fellows about town to the best of m}^ ability ; so 
I’ll have plenty of opportunities to go to her 
house, nominally to consult her father and 
mother on the subject. If her interest in the 
circle continues, as I suppose it will, for there is 
any amount of grip and hold-fast in that family, 
I will be sure to see a great deal of her. Con- 
found it! I do wish I knew how much she was 
in earnest about this affair — about both affairs. 
I have heard of such things as girls deliberately 
interesting men in a subject so as to have the 
men nearer them ; but if she has any interest in 
me she has a very queer way of showing it — 
hides it very skillfully, in fact — still, there 
doesn’t seem to be very much doubt about her 
interest in the circle ; so my best plan is to stick 
to that and work for it with all my might. Yes, 
Joseph, my boy, that’s your best hold. Just you 
be C. L. S. E. all the while and every time that 
you meet her or her mother. Work like fury 









Talking It Over, 


65 


about it and talk about it among the boys and 
try to bring new fellows in ; if she has any doubt 
about your ability and your solidity of charac- 
ter, that ought to dissipate it. It’s your chance ; 
that isn’t all — it’s your only chance at present, 
apparently. You can’t do anything by paying 
compliments to her, making soft speeches, 
making eyes at her, nor' anything of the sort. 
You might as well try it on the planet Venus. 
I sometimes wonder if there is any natural 
affection about that girl. I never have heard of 
her showing any ; perhaps it isn’t in her; yet her 
mother seems to be full of warmth, and her 
father has the same sort of blood, judging by his 
steady attentions to his wife and the courtesy he 
always shows her, no matter where one happens 
to see them together. Well, it takes all sorts of 
people to make a world ; perhaps, if I study that 
family carefully, as I’ll have a good chance now, 
I may learn a great deal that now I can only 
wonder about.” 

Meanwhile, at the home of Mr. Broad, the 
manufacturer, the same subject was being dis, 
cussed, but from a different standpoint. 

“ Eunice,” said the elder Miss Broad to one of 


66 


The Chautauquans. 


her sisters, “what do you suppose Alice Dawn 
meant by nominating Joe Warren for secretary 
and treasurer of the circle? I think it was the 
coolest thing I ever heard in my life.” 

“ I suppose, Kate,” said the young woman 
addressed, who had a great deal of her father’s 
cold sense — “ I suppose it was because she 
thought he would make a good secretary and 
treasurer.” 

“ But the idea of standing right up in a great 
crowd like that and naming a young man ! I 
never heard of such a thing in all my life. I 
think it was — why, I think it was almost indel- 
icate.” 

“ I’m sure 1 can’t see why, if a girl has any- 
thing to say and is old enough to be allowed to 
take part in meetings, she shouldn’t do it. Alice 
Dawn certainly is old enough — twenty-two or 
twenty-three, if she is a day.” 

“ As if ihat was the only way to look at it! 
You know perfectly well what folks will think. 
There are plenty of people who’ll believe that 
she has lost her head over that fellow, otherwise 
she couldn’t have been so — so — ” 

“ Well ?” 


Talkhig It Over. 


67 


“ So careless. That’s the real state of the 
case. You certainly couldn’t imagine me doing 
such a thing.” 

“ No, Kate,” drawled Eunice, “ I don’t think I 
could.” 

“ What do you mean by that ?” 

“ Only that if you’d got up and said anything 
about Joe Warren, I’m sure you’d have blushed 
so — ” 

“ Eunice Broad, I’m ashamed of you !” 

“ You needn’t be,” said the younger sister, 
“ because I think it’s real sensible of you or any 
one else to admire Joe Warren ; and I wish with 
all my might that he would come and make love 
to you like every thing and marry you, for I’d like 
to have him in the family ; I think he would 
make a real nice brother-in-law. There — you’re 
blushing like everything ; you see 1 was right 
about it; you knew it perfectly well when 1 
said so ; you oughtn’t to have got angry. It was 
very unsisterly to act so.” 

“Eunice,” said Kate, in a softer tone, after a 
moment or two, in which she seemed to be 
hesitating about something ; “ do you really think 


68 


The Chautauqtians, 


from what you’ve seen, that that couple are really 
especially fond of each other ?” 

“ I can’t see any reason at all for thinking so. 
They are very polite to each other ; of course, 
Joe can’t help admiring Alice Dawn, for she’s a 
real fine girl — you’ll admit that yourself — she is 
quite handsome, besides, and as to her feelings 
towards him — well, you know how very few 
real nice young fellows there are in this town. 
Joe isn’t settled in business yet, and father hasn’t 
any patience with young men who aren’t hard at 
work all the while, but I never heard of Joe say- 
ing anything ungentlemanly, or doing anything 
rude, or of being fond of bad company of any 
kind; on the other hand, he is polite, thoughtful, 
and always knows what to say if he meets one — 
always says something, anyway, that isn’t 
unpleasant and — and — ” 

“ Well, go on. What were you going to say ?” 

“ Oh, you already know well enough, though 1 
suppose you are trying to drag it out of me, that 
he is the handsomest young fellow in the whole 
town.” 

Kate Broad looked satisfied, and changed the 
subject of conversation by saying: 


Talking It Over, 


69 


“But what do you think of this circle ? Do 
you suppose papa will really insist on our taking 
part in it ?” 

“ I don’t see how he can help it, as he is presi- 
dent of the circle ; and if he says so, do let’s 
try to be womanly, and agree with him from 
the start; it seems to me that poor man has to 
fight for everything he wants to have done in 
this family. We’re nice enough people. I’m 
sure, but, Kate, I begin to think we make a 
dreadful fuss about anything and everything 
that father wants done for the sake of improving 
us in any way. Just because he has a lot of 
money, and we can have almost everything 
that money will buy, we seem to think there is 
nothing else in the world for us to do but enjoy 
ourselves. Father is older than we, and has a great 
deal more sense ; he loves us dearly, and I think 
when he makes a suggestion we might show a 
great deal more respect than we’ve been doing 
heretofore. He is certainly a very indulgent 
parent, and I don’t believe that any one who 
knows him in business can imagine how per- 
fectly lovely he is at home.” 

“ But,” said Kate, “ do you realize what it will 


70 


The Chautauquans. 


come to if we go on with it? Why, there were 
all sorts of people at the Dawns’ to-night. Some- 
how the Dawns can do that sort of thing and 
not be talked about, but I’m sure that I don’t 
want that crowd at our house, if meetings have 
to be held around at different homes.” 

“ Why,” said the other sister, wonderingly, “1 
did not see any one there particularly dreadful.” 

“ Do you mean to say that you didn’t see that 
dreadful old Mrs. Purkis and those wild, savage, 
utterly queer-looking girls of hers?” 

“ Oh, 3 ^es, I saw them ; but I’m sure they be- 
haved as well as any one else ; in fact, I think they 
behaved a great deal better than some others ; 
they held their tongues most of the time, when 
every one else was jabbering in the most outrage- 
ous manner; it was hard to make one’s self 
heard part of the time.” 

“ But the dreadful head of the family, old Pur- 
kis himself, was there, and they elected him one 
of the vice presidents. Gracious! I expected to 
see father get up with his very best business 
frown and resign the presidency at once. Pm 
sure if I had been he, I would have done it on the 
spur of the moment.” 


Talking It Ove7\ 


1 


I heard father say something about the spur 
of the moment once,” said Eunice. He said he 
never did anything on the spur of the moment 
unless he thought it over a great deal first. I 
said that was a bull; but papa said that a bull 
was a great deal better than a fool, and he didn’t 
propose to be the latter.” 

“Well, at any rate, you’re getting away from 
the Purkises, and they are what I want to talk 
about. Suppose a meeting should be held here. 
Do you mean to say that you’re going to expect 
me as the host, dear mother being dead, to re- 
ceive those three or four dreadful people and tell 
them I’m glad they’ve come — which, of course, 
I shall have to say?” 

“ Well, if you can’t do it, take comfort in the 
thought that you have a younger sister to 
assist you in receiving. I shan’t be afraid, so 
long as father is willing to be in the same 
society with them. If I have any hesitation 
about it in the meantime. I’ll consult him. 
Men have to meet all sorts of people in the 
course of business, every day of their lives, and 
I don’t think it will do a great deal of harm to 
my father’s daughters to meet common people 


72 


The Chautauquans. 


once in a while in a meeting of this kind, espe- 
cially if there can’t be any selfishness to meet and 
combat, as there is in business. 1 think myself 
the equal of any girl in this town, but I’m not 
made of such delicate stuff that I’ll be shattered 
by a momentary encounter with somebody as 
harmless as the Purkises, common though they 
are. I suppose you may think me dreadful, but 
I must say that, while looking at those people 
to-night, I thought there was quite as much 
character in their faces as in some others around 
the room.” 

“ What? That lazy, lounging, shiftless man.^” 
I’m not speaking of the father, but the 
mother and daughters. I really thought I could 
see how they might amount to a great deal if 
they had any fair opportunity in the world.” 

“Eunice Broad, do be quiet ! You drive me 
almost frantic. You ought to have been a boy.” 

“No, thank you; I prefer being as I am. 
Plenty of boys have the same feeling as I, 
probably ; but it is scarce among girls, and I 
think I may be useful by setting a good example. 
A little of my father’s spirit would do a world 
of good, distributed around among women, and 


Talking It Over. 


73 


I’m going to try to do it in my little way. I 
suppose I shall make any number of blunders, 
but I’ll learn to think about something besides 
myself.” 

“ For goodness’ sake !” exclaimed the older 
sister, impatiently. I should think you’d already 
been drinking in the Chautauqua course, or 
something of the sort. I never heard a girl 
talk this way before, although I’ve seen symp- 
toms of it in you for a long time. I should 
like to know what started it.” 

“Ask father, dear; I’m his daughter, you 
know ; I think he is the very nicest man in the 
world, and I’m not ashamed to imitate him in 
any way.” 

“ Oh, you’re not ! I suppose one of these days 
you’ll be starting a foundry, and employing a lot 
of hands just as he is doing.” 

“Well, why not, if I’m able to do it? I sus- 
pect if I were running a factory of some kind, 
the feminine workers, at least, would fare a 
great deal better than many do nowadays. 
Besides, father may need an assistant in his 
own business; who knows? He has to work 
terribly hard, and comes home very tired some- 


74 


The Chant auquans. 


times; money doesn’t save him. Rich people 
who amount to anything have to work a great 
deal harder than poor folks — father said so, 
and ever since he said it I have been noticing 
it in other cases. I might be very useful to him 
if I went down to the foundry once in a while, 
and followed his directions about something ; 
to be sure, I don’t know how to do anything, 
but I suppose he^ could teach me. Just think 
how happy those German farmers, out on the 
edge of the town look, with their wives and 
children working in the field right beside 
them !” 

“ Eunice Broad, I won’t talk another word to 
you ! You’re simply, positively, horribly revol 
utionary — there !” 

“ But you will let me receive the Purkises for 
you ? Because you know I like to save you 
trouble.” 

Miss Kate hurried off to her room, the very 
footfalls of her shoes expressing indignation. 

The next morning Postmaster Brown kept a 
line of applicants for the principal mail of the 
day waiting a long while as he interrogated 
each one at the window as to his opinion of the 


Talkmg It Ovei\ 75 

meeting the night before, and urged those who 
had not attended to join the class at once ; he 
accompanied his exhortation with a circular and 
application blank. As a consequence, those who 
were not in a hurry — who numbered about half 
of the entire number present — with two or three 
whose time was of considerable importance, but 
who already were enthused on the subject of 
the reading circle, remained in the lobby and 
indulged in a long chat over the new organiza- 
tion and what it might do. Most of the conver- 
sation was about the trivialities of the meeting ; 
how people who had not been in the habit of 
associating stared at each other, and how they 
acted toward each other. The better souls 
strove hard to interest those who were merely 
curious, to change curiosity into interest ; and 
they succeeded so well that by evening of the 
same day Brinston was assured of a reading 
circle of about seventy-five members. 



CHAPTER V. 


THE PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFI- 
CULTIES. 

Eozoic — palaeozoic — mesozoic — caenozoic !” 

These four words Mrs. Purkis uttered over 
and over again to herself in a low tone, though 
very energetically, as she bent over an ironing- 
table, and emphasized the ending of the recita- 
tion by a vigorous pound of the iron. “Eozoic 
— palaeozoic — mesozoic — caenozoic !” So earn- 
estly were the words pronounced that the 
speaker seemed to be putting them into mental 
italics. “ Eozoic — palaeozoic — mesozoic — caeno- 
zoic !” After each utterance Mrs. Purkis pursed 
her lips as if she were summoning all her will 
power to her aid for some purpose. 

“For goodness’ sake, mother!” exclaimed 
Florinda Purkis, who had been leaning over the 
stove, making some preparations for dinner. 
[76] 


Knowledge Under Dijjiculties. 


77 


“ What is them outlandish words you keep goin’ 
over and over again ? Has there new folks 
come to town, and is them their names?” 

Mrs. Purkis rested on her iron a moment, for 
it had grown too cool for further use, shot an 
indignant glance at her daughter, repeated the 
four mysterious words again, and then said : 

“Florinda Purkis, what do you mean by ask- 
ing me that question? Ain’t you studied your 
lesson yet? Ain’t you read that chapter in the 
geology.” 

“ Oh, goodness gracious !” snapped the girl. 
“ Is it some of that lesson? I think that is the 
stupidest stuff that I ever saw in the world.” 

“ Stupid or no stupid, you’ve agreed to learn 
it, an’ you’ve got to stick to it now, young 
woman; I can tell you that. What have you 
been doin’ that you haven’t caught up to it?” 

“ Well,” explained the girl in a plaintive voice, 
“ I was goin’ to learn the lesson last night, but 
Lulu Jones lent me this week’s Heart's Delight, 
and there’s a splendid story in it about a feller 
an’ a gal. It’s in awful fine print, an’ there’s lots 
of it, an’ by the time I got done my eyes hurt 
me too much to read anythin’ else,” 


78 


The Chautauquans. 


'''Heart's Delight T " echoed the mother. 
‘“Feller an’ a gal!’ That sort of stuff would 
spile more’n half the women in this hull country 
if they don’t get somethin’ else to mix with it. 
I do wish to goodness there hadn’t never been 
none of it printed. I know if there hadn’t been, 
my life would have been a good deal happier ; 
maybe yourn would have been, too. Here, 
Arabella, you ain’t doin’ nothin’ but lookin’ out 
the winder an’ makin’ believe fold down them 
clothes. You get that book now, sit down here, 
and read it out loud ; it won’t do me no harm to 
hear it again. Then I’m agoin’ to ask you and 
your sisters questions about it — such as I can 
remember — an’ make sure that you find out 
somethin’ about it. After this don’t you read no 
more stories while your lessons ain’t done. If I 
can get along without them, I guess you can. 
Goodness knows I don’t find much pleasure any- 
where else, except when 1 read. Eozoic — 
palaeozoic — mesozoic — caenozoic 1” 

Arabella, whose ability to stop looking through 
the window was of the feeblest order, did 
not reply very promptly. She finally had to be 
taken in hand by her mother, who took the girl 


Knowledge Ufider Difficnlties, 79 


by both shoulders, dropped her forcibly upon a 
bench, got the book, opened it, put it into 
Arabella’s hand, and exclaimed : 

“ Now read ; an’ see you read good an’ clear, 
too. Them names ain’t none too easy to remem- 
ber, even when one’s seen ’em spelt.” 

The reading began in a voice that evidently 
never had been trained by an elocutionist, and 
that also was complicated with a persistent fit of 
the sulks. Whenever a paragraph ended the 
voice showed reluctance to begin another, but, 
urged by an occasional threat, the reader finally 
proceeded with some show of purpose, if not of 
interest. 

“ Say, mother,” said Florinda, taking advan- 
tage of her sister’s long and floundering pause 
over a hard word, “ what’s the good of all this 
stuff, anyhow ? What do we want to know about 
rocks that’s way down under the ground, and 
wouldn’t do us any good if they wasn’t ?” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Purkis, after a moment of 
deliberation, “ I don’t know as yet, but I’m goin’ 
to find out. I do know that it can’t do us any 
harm, and that’s more than I can say about things 
we talk about most of the time.” 


8o 


The Chautauquans. 


“ I’d ruther hear somethin’ about folks, instead 
of these things — folks that I know somethin’ 
about,” said Arabella, taking advantage of the 
conversation to stop reading. 

“ Yes ; and that’s just what 1 don’t intend you 
shall know any more about than I can help,” 
replied the mother. “ It’s that sort of stuff that’s 
took all the brains out of you for anythin’ else. 1 
don’t know as I can blame you so much, for I was 
just the same way myself when I was a gal. My 
gals shan’t go on that way any longer, though, if 
I can help it. That’s one reason I tuck up with 
this here readin’. You go right straight along 
with it now. So long as you air a-readin’ I can 
feel easy that your mind ain’t a-runnin’ on affairs 
that ain’t none of your business.” 

“ Mother,” said Florinda, “ you don’t mean to 
say that that’s the reason that you want father 
to take up the readin’, too ?” 

“ I do mean to say it,” said Mrs. Purkis, with 
a vigorous crash of her iron on the board ; “ at 
least, that’s one of the reasons. If it hadn’t ’a’ 
been for him standin’ around at stores an’ corners 
an’ places, listenin’ to all the talk of the village 
about what this person was doin’ an’ that one was 


Knowledge Under Difficnlties. 8i 


goin’ to do, your father might amount to 
somethin’ — amount to a good deal more than he 
has, anyhow. You gals didn’t know yer father 
in his best days. No matter what you’ve heard 
me say to him here in the house sometimes, when 
I was losin’ my temper for reasons which, maybe, 
wasn’t as bad .as I thought, and yet, the Lord 
knows, they was bad enough — your father, I 
want you to understand, was a mighty likely 
young feller in his day, an’ might have made piles 
of money if he’d ever stuck to anythin’; but he’d 
got in the habit of hangin’ around, listenin’ an’ 
talkin’ about other people’s business that wasn’t 
any of his affairs. There ain’t nothin’ in the 
world that will make a husband — or a wife, either 
— good for nothin’ quicker’n that. I want you 
gals to keep out of it.” 

“ Well, I don’t think it’s very kind, not to let 
us want to be interested in them that’s livin’ 
right around us. Even the minister in church 
tells folks to do that.” 

“ He don’t tell you to do it in the way you’ve 
been doin’ ; you know that well enough without 
bein’ reminded. Nobody ever seen either of 
you interested enough in anybody that was in 


82 


The Chautauquans. 


trouble to go an’ help ’em an’ work for ’em. 
Standin’ around an’ talkin’ about folks an’ their 
bizness ain’t showin* no interest in ’em. Now 
you hurry along fixin’ that dinner, Florindy ; 
your father’s a-workin’ now, an’ deserves to be 
encouraged ; an’ I don’t know of no better 
encouragement for anybody that’s workin’ hard 
than to find a good dinner waitin’ when the time 
comes. If I stop what I’m doin’ to ’tend to that 
cookin’, this work won’t be done to-night in time 
to get the money for it, and then goodness 
knows where we’ll get anythin’ to eat to-mor- 
row.” 

“ I’ll do it, mother, just as fast as I can,” said the 
daughter who was superintending the culinary 
operations. “ But I do just want to know one 
thing : How do you get interested at all in this 
that we’re readin’ about ? What is there about 
it that makes you enjoy it, anyway ?” 

“What makes me enjoy it?” said the mother, 
dropping her iron for a moment and looking 
sharply at her daughter. “ Why, it helps me 
get out of the bother that I can’t make any bet- 
ter by thinkin’ about it — all the things that we 
need an’ can’t get — till my head is nearly half 


Knowledge Under Difficulties. 83 


crazy about it, month in an’ month out — yes, 
year in and year out, as for that. I need some- 
thin’ else to think about, just to rest me. If I 
don’t find it in some good way my mind is sure 
to run on things bad ; an’ I get to wishin’ I hadn’t 
ever been born, an’ that I’d married somebody 
else, an’ didn’t have any gals, an’ didn’t have 
nothin’ to do, an’ that I could steal a lot of 
money somewheres, or else steal some clothes, an’ 
things to eat, so’s to have somethin’ in the house. 
But when I hear about somethin’ I ain’t never 
heard of before, I can drop wonderin’ about my 
bothers ; maybe that ain’t very high edication, 
but J know anyhow that it’s a great comfort to 
me; the Lord knows I need it, an’ I should 
think you two gals was old enough to know it 
too, if you ever looked at your mother an’ cared 
anythin’ at all for her. Look around this room 
just this minnit ; what is there to look at that 
gives me any comfort at all, except the bed 
over in the corner, an’ me wishin’ all the time 
to get in it — wishin’ it at the very time in the 
mornin’ when I don’t want to get out of it.” 

The girls looked, and certainly they saw 
nothing that the eye could dwell upon with 


84 


The Chautauquans. 


pleasure for any length of time, or, indeed, for a 
single instant. Some soap dealers’ chromos and 
tobacconists’ lithographs that the family had 
begged or found were on the walls; the furniture 
was the commonest variety, and all of it much 
the worse for wear ; a dilapidated clock, with 
one of the hands broken, was ticking away on 
the mantel ; portions of the top of the stove 
were covered with flat pieces of iron where 
there should Have been stove-lids ; many of the 
window-panes were broken and had been 
mended with pieces of cloth or paper pasted 
across the holes ; and the floor was innocent of 
carpet or any other covering. As the girls 
looked at all this — it must be said without great 
interest, for they had seen the room no other 
way so long as they could remember — a slow 
succession of hissing sounds from the ironing- 
board attracted Florinda’s attention. She 
looked a moment inquiringly, then sidling 
toward her sister, whispered : 

“ Mother’s cryin’.” 

Arabella looked on stupidly, though with 
some show of interest, for her mother did not 
often cry. The elder daughter also stared for a 


Knozv ledge Under Difficulties, 85 


little while, and finally walked around the end 
of the table, put her arm around her mother’s 
shoulders, took the iron from her hand, and 
with the other arm, pressed the tired woman to 
her breast ; then Mrs. Purkis’s tears came in a 
flood, as she sobbed : 

‘‘ If this new start don’t do somethin’ good. 
I’ll be ready to give up. It’s just one long fight 
for life, the wolf at the door all the time, an’ no 
signs of anythin’ decenter. I’ll stand anythin’ 
now that your father’s at work, if he’ll only stick 
to it an’ keep good habits, an’ hold on to the 
friends that seem to have been raised up for 
him in that meetin’ an’ in this new work that 
he’s inter. I’m doin’ all I can to make him stick 
to it, but you gals — you’ve got to help me — it 
takes a mighty long time to change old habits.” 

“ I’m sure father’s doin’ real well, mother,” 
said Florinda, in quite a gentle tone, still hold- 
ing the old woman to her breast. “ I never see 
him in the streets any more. He seems to be 
doin’ that work that Mr. Brown gave him an’ 
stickin’ to it. Why, I heard some one say the 
other day, as I was goin’ along the street: 
‘ That gal’s father ’pears to be doin’ unusual 


86 


The Chaiitauquans. 


well just now.’ There wasn’t no other gal 
around, so I’m sure they meant us.” 

Goodness gracious ! I’m glad to hear it,” 
said the mother, straightening herself up and 
wiping her eyes. “ Wish I’d been there to hear 
it, for I never heard nothin’ like that — not ever 
since I was married. If he’d just keep up his 
grip an’ keep goin’ on that way, maybe folks 
would have some respec’ for us, poor as we be.” 

“ Perhaps that’s the reason,” said Florinda, 
“ that young stuck-up feller, Joe Warren, lifted 
his hat to me twice in the street in the past 
week or two. He never, never took any notice 
of me before in any way, except to look at me as 
if Iwas a kind of animal he had never seen be- 
fore and he wondered what sort I was anyway.” 

“What? Joe Warren — lifted his hat! you — 
in the street — twice ?” exclaimed the mother. 
“Thank the Lord!” Then she took a hot iron 
from the fire and began to work with great 
vigor. 

“What for?” asked Arabella, with a hard 
laugh. “ You don’t think he’s got notions of 
Florindy, do you ?” 

“ No, you fool child, of course I don’t. I don’t 


Knowledge Under Difficulties. 87 


know that I would want him to if he did. I 
never see him doin’ much of anythin’ ; he just 
loafs around, like your father used to. He’s got 
education, been to college, but he ain’t a-doin’ 
nothin’. I don’t see how he’s ever goin’ to 
amount to anythin’.” 

“Then what makes you glad he showed 
manners to Florindy ?” 

“ Because I want to have my daughters 
respected,” said the mother. “ I want some- 
body to pay ’tendon to ’em besides street-loafers 
and strangers that come along. No matter how 
poor we be, or how low down we be, an’ how 
mean a house we live in, or how much trouble 
we have to get along, remember your father and 
your mother was always decent ; an’ I don’t want 
nobody but decent people to take notice of you 
gals. Them that is decent, if they only look as 
if they knowed you an’ have any respect for you, 
for any reason at all — why, it would do me more 
good than anythin’ that ever happened to me in 
a long time. Now I just want you gals to 
remember this. We’re goin’ to the meetin’s of 
this readin’-circle — we’re goin’ to every one of 
’em. If we can’t dress up an’ look as nice as 


88 


The Chautauqiians. 


other folks, we can be clean, anyhow. We can 
pay ’tendon to what’s said ; an’ if nobody ever 
speaks to us at all an’ pays no 'tendon to us, just 
so’s they let us be there — be among them — it’ll 
do me more good to think about after I get 
home than you know anythin’ about. I don’t 
want either of you ever to make any excuses to 
be away ; 1 don’t want you to try to ring your- 
self in on other folks that is better than we are 
or thinks they be, but you be ready to answer 
any questions that’s put to you about the lessons 
anywhere. It’s your only chance, I can tell you ; 
folks mayn’t think you’re wise or solemn, but 
let ’em see you trying to learn somethin’ and 
think somethin’. We ain’t got no money, we 
ain’t got no clothes, we ain’t got much good 
looks — though you two gals wouldn’t be bad- 
looking if you could get your brains into your 
faces once in a while — and the way to get your 
brains into your faces is to know somethin’ an’ 
think about it, even if it ain’t what you particu- 
larly like to enjoy. Now, you gals remember 
what I tell you, and don’t make me nave to 
watch you all the time. You just stick to this 
readin’; perhaps if you do, your father will get 


Knowledge Under Difficulties. 89 


proud of you a little. Perhaps that will help 
him along a little ; goodness knows he needs a 
good deal of help.” 

The reading went on ; so did the preparations 
for dinner. The reading was stopped by numer- 
ous questions, but the pot on the stove continued 
to simmer ; finally the dilapidated clock indicated 
the hour of twelve ; the ironing-table was speed- 
ily cleared, the plates were placed and the dinner 
served just in time. The head of the family 
entered the door to hear one of his daughters 
reading aloud, and the other daughter, with 
her mother, listening with interest ; he had 
never before seen such a spectacle in his own 
home, and he leaned against the door-frame and 
listened. When the reading ended he looked at 
his wife and said : 

“ Maria, I don’t know what all this is goin’ 
to come to, but I do tell you this looks good 
when 1 come in ; I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it 
in the family before , it kind o’ braces me up to 
my share of the work. The boys ’round town do 
guy me awful ; I’ve got more nicknames already 
than a bad dog.” 

“ Been at work all day ?” asked Mrs. Purkis. 


90 


The Chautauqua7is. 


“Yes — yes; of course I have.” 

“You’d better have dropped dead a stickin* 
to that than stay alive doin’ nothin,’ an’ goin’ on 
in the old way,” remarked Mrs. Purkis. 

“ I don’t think that’s very sympathetic for a 
feller’s wife,” drawled Purkis, as he dropped on 
a bench. 

“ Perhaps it ain’t, Madison ; yet, if you think a 
while, I guess you’ll agree with me, that it’s all 
true.” 

Purkis did think awhile, with his elbows on 
his knees and his hand supporting his cheeks ; 
finally, when the contents of the pot were upon 
the table, Mrs. Purkis ejaculated : 

“ Set down.” 

Purkis rose from the bench, leaned over his 
wife, put his arms around her, and said : 

“ Well, Maria, I have thought about it. You’re 
right. If 1 don’t stick it out it will be because it 
makes a corpse of me before I can get through. 
If it does make a corpse of me, Maria, why all 
I’ve got to say is you’ll have more comfort to put 
in my coffin than you’d ever have had before.” 

Mrs. Purkis, rising from the table, returned 
her husband’s embrace and whispered : 


Among the Backsliders. 


9 ^ 


“ I’ll keep you out of yer coffin, if you’ll 
’tend to the rest of it. Count on me for that. 
I can change as well as you can, and since 1 
found that I can stick to these here lessons, as 
well as you can, I don’t propose to have no man 
ever get ahead of me again. Don’t you forget 
that, nuther. Eozcic — palaeozoic — mesozoic — 
caenozoic. There !” 


CHAPTER VI. 

AMONG THE BACKSLIDERS. 

“ Euthusiasm doesn’t amount to much in this 
world, does it, mother?” said Alice Dawn, at 
the breakfast-table one morning. 

“ My dear girl,” was the reply, “ what put 
such a dismal idea into your mind ?” 

“ Oh, the dropping away of so many members 
of our reading class ; it does seem to me that 
half of them are beginning to make excuses for 
not following the course and keeping up with 
the regular order!” 


92 


The Chautattquans. 


“ Enthusiasm,” said Mr. Dawn, “ that is, the 
enthusiasm of a crowd, lasts exactly as long as 
you keep the crowd together ; all that can be 
done to keep it up is to re-assemble the people 
as often as possible.” 

“ The real trouble, I suppose,” said Mrs. 
Dawn, “ is that very few of these people as yet 
realize that it is the first step which costs. 
There’s.a good subject, Henry, for an address at 
the next meeting.” 

“ I fear,” said the head of the family, “ that an 
address on that subject from me wouldn’t 
amount to anything. It ought to be made by 
some one else — by some one else — by some 
younger person ; the majority of the people who 
promised to take up this reading course are of 
the class that never devoted itself consecutively 
to any one sort of mental labor, and they are 
finding the work harder than they supposed.” 

“ It’s easy enough. I’m sure,” said the daugh- 
ter. 

“It seems so to you, because you’ve been 
trained to that sort of work at school, and the 
effects of your school discipline have remained 
with you. If, now, we could find some one who 


Amojtg the Backsliders. 


93 


is still young and who is persistent in the course, 
that person’s example and exhortation might have 
some effect upon the others. Daughter, I think 
you might do it better than any one else.” 

“ But there are so few of the members to 
whom 1 feel at liberty to talk freely ; I can’t go 
about lecturing to women who are older than I, 
and there are only about a dozen girls in the 
set.” 

“ Very well, do what you can, and we’ll see if 
we can’t make that lazy Joe Warren do the 
same among the boys. As for the adults, per- 
haps your mother and I and the postmaster and 
Mr. Broad may have some influence there. I’ll tell 
you what — a splendid idea, too — give. me credit 
for it; I’ll pay Mrs. Purkis two or three days’ 
wages to go around among the few people there 
are of her class, and tell her own experience. I 
chanced to meet her in the street the other day, 
and asked her whether she was tired of the work 
yet, and I do wish you could have seen the way 
she looked at me ! There’s an immense amount 
of character in that woman, plain, awkward, 
homely and stupid as she seems. I really quite 
admire her.” 


94 


The Chaiitauqiians. 


“ Mother, aren’t you growing jealous ?” asked 
Alice. 

“I might be, after that speech, if I hadn’t seen 
Mrs. Purkis’s new bonnet. Poor thing !” 

“Father, do you suppose people really do 
talk to each other about their readings and their 
lessons? Do you suppose that the beginning 
of the course, what little there has been of it, 
has had an}^ effect in improving the general 
tone of the town and enlarging the subjects of 
conversation ?” 

“ Not very much, I fancy, and yet, every little 
helps. Brown says there have been some very 
funny discussions in the post-office, even by 
mischievous boys, on the subject of some of the 
lessons, and that the members have succeeded in 
showing their ignorance to an appalling extent. 
Still, all such talk does good.” 

Alice Dawn nerved herself for a day of hard 
work and went out among her nearest acquaint- 
ances. She first visited the Broad girls, and 
learned before she had been five minutes in the 
house that Kate Broad had found the lessons too 
tiresome for anything, and for her part she was 
going to give them up; she wasn’t going to go 


Amo7ig the Backsliders. 


95 


back to school again after she had graduated 
and got through with all the horrid bother of it. 
The lessons weren’t going to do her any good 
anyhow ; they weren’t intended for that sort of 
people, she was sure ; they were well enough 
lor the Purkises and dreadful people like them, 
and perhaps for others in the village who had 
never had any educational advantages, but for 
her part she wasn’t going to waste her time 
over pokey old books when there were such lots 
of lovely novels coming out every week, and she 
didn’t get time to read half of them, even when 
she gave her entire time to it. 

“ But think of the humiliation of giving up,” 
said Alice, “ and for your father’s daughter, too ; 
the Broads have always been noted for finishing 
whatever they began. Beside, we girls need to 
stand up for our own sex. We’ll never hear the 
end of it if we give up, while a lot of young 
fellows in town, who haven’t any more brains 
and education than we, are going on. 1 confess 
I find the work hard enough, and I should be 
very glad if I didn’t have it to do— that is, for 
the work’s sake ; but I’m not going to be out- 
done by any set of young men, I assure you.” 


96 


The Chautauquans. 


“ I suppose, then, Mr. Warren is keeping up 
with the class,” with a ghost of a sneer, accom- 
panied by an indirect look. 

“ I'm sure I don’t know,” Alice replied. “I 
wish you’d ask him, and tease him if he isn’t.” 

“ Indeed ! Why should I ask him ?” 

“ For the same reason that any one else should 
or might, I suppose. I don’t see why the ques- 
tion shouldn’t be put by any of his acquaint- 
ances.” 

Kate Broad began to think rapidly. Perhaps^ 
after all, Alice Dawn was not much interested 
in Joe Warren. 

“ I’ll ask him for you, if you like, Kate,” said 
Eunice Broad. “ I’ll tease the life out of him ; 
nothing would please me better. I haven’t any 
patience at all with good-looking, well-dressed 
well-to-do, dawdling young men like Joe War- 
ren ; and I’d take almost a fiendish delight in 
tormenting one of them.” 

Kate Broad eyed Alice Dawn narrowly, but 
did not see a change of feature to reward her 
gaze. Evidently there was nothing between the 
couple. What the discovery had to do with the 
Chautauqua course of reading was more than 



# 










Trtry 

•> 


w 

► V 





f 


I 




r 

i' 








% 




f 




r_ * 


- r Mfs ^ - 


• « 


. 'w 






1 I ■• . * 


f 


t 

s' 

«* 

4 















?..i 



V-.* 


Among the Backslide7's. 


97 


she or any one else could have explained ; yet 
she suddenly changed her manner, and said : 

You’re right about it, Alice ; we girls ought 
to stick to the course for the sake of putting 
those young men to shame, and to encourage 
younger people to be interested in the same 
studies as their parents. I take back all 1 have 
said about it, and I’ll go to work at it again in 
real good earnest.” 

“Just like father’s daughter,” suggested 
Eunice. 

“Yes; and just like my own sister, too. I’m 
not going to be outdone by you. Miss Eunice.” 

“ ‘ Nobody asked you, sir, she said,’ ” quoted 
Eunice with a laugh, as Alice made her adieux 
and hurried off to bring to bear upon other 
reluctant girls of her acquaintance the moral 
influence of the Broad girls and herself ; for she 
knew quite well that between them they set the 
style for the town, and that where they went 
/vU the others would follow if it were possible. 

M .der round of visits ended at the Purkises. 
family never before had enjoyed an oppor- 
ly to greet Miss Dawn within their own 
s, and their sense of being honored was 


98 


The Chautauquans. 


equaled only by their discomfort; but the visitor 
made haste to put them at ease, and to ask, in 
most sympathetic tones, whether they didn’t 
find the work dreadfully hard. 

“Yes, indeed,” said Florinda. 

“ Perfectly awful !” drawled Arabella. 

“So do I,” said Miss Dawn. “To sit down 
for an hour a day and fix your mind on a lot of 
things that you haven’t seen and heard much 
about, and never had much interest in, when 
there’s a dozen other things that you’d rather 
read, and a good many things that you’d like to 
do; more still, when you’d like best of all to sit 
still and not have to fix your mind on anything at 
all — 1 tell you it is hard work. I know what it 
is. Once in a while, when I’m reading a chap- 
ter, I feel as if I should like to get up and fly 
away somewhere; the more I try to fix my mind 
the more things come into it. It does seem as 
if the reading-hour was just the time of day 
when everything comes into my mind — thing*' 
that can be just as well thought about at otht 
times. Real provoking, isn’t it?” 

“Just that,” said Florinda. 

“Awful provokin’!” sighed Arabella. 


Among the Backsliders, 


99 


“ It’s a comfort, though, isn’t it,” said the 
visitor, “ after the reading is done for the day, to 
feel that it is done, and that you know more 
about something besides what’s right about us, 
and that we have something to think about when 
we are merely using our hands while our minds 
are idling? Why, even father, whose head 
you’d suppose would be full of business all the 
time, says it is a great comfort to him to drop 
other thoughts once in a while and ramble 
about in his mind in the lessons he has read 
during the day or heard me or mother read 
aloud the evening before. How does your 
mother get along at it ? I don’t see where she 
can get any time at all.” 

“ Oh, mother’s a regular steam engine,” said 
Florinda. “ The harder she works the harder 
she thinks, 1 believe. I do declare. Miss Dawn, 
though maybe I ought to be ashamed to say it, 
that I never knew what a smart mother I had 
until this thing came up.” 

“ Mother’s just wonderful!” drawled Arabella, 
in corroboration of her sister’s statement. “ I 
don’t see how there come to be so much to her 
with all she’s got to do. It’s wore on me lately 


lOO 


The Chautauquans. 


the way she sticks to them lessons an’ talks 
about ’em. I was tellin’ father about it the 
other night after he come home, while mother 
was out somewhere leavin’ some clothes she’d 
done, and — and — I don’t know whether I ought 
to tell it out of the family — ” 

“Go ahead,” said Florinda, “there ain’t nothin’ 
in it to be ashamed of.” 

“Well,” continued Arabella, “father he 
looked at me — an’ looked at me ; then he looked 
off toward the stove, an’ ef you’ll believe me. 
Miss Dawn, he kind o’ cried a little, an’ he said : 
‘ Children,’ said he, ‘ nobody has ever appre- 
ciated your mother ; it’s all my fault, too ;’ an’ 
then he kind o’ cried some more. The way he’s 
been goin’ at them books ever sense beats all I 
ever seed from him, or from anybody else either, 
in this family, except mother.” 

“ It’s pleasant to learn how much we have to 
be proud of in our parents, isn’t it? Well, don’t 
let us girls have anybody get ahead of us. Let’s 
remember that there’s a host of men in this town 
who think that women aren’t equal to them ; 
the only way to get the notion out of their heads 
is to show them that they’re mistaken. We’ve a 


Among the Backsliders. 


lOI 


chance now ; let’s make the best of it. Let’s 
each of us girls go in to beat all the others ; that’s 
the only way to put some sense into the heads 
of young upstarts of men.” 

“No young man will ever think you ain’t his 
equal, Miss Dawn,” said Florinda, with a shy 
and admiring look. 

“ Oh, you’re mistaken,” laughed Alice. “ You 
can’t imagine how conceited young men are, 
but I don’t intend to let any of them get the 
better of me, so far as brains are concerned.” 

“ I never knowed how plucky and sassy that 
gal could be before,” said Florinda, as she 
gazed through the window at the retreating 
form of the visitor. 

“ Why, she talks just as if she was — as if she 
was like us,” said the sister. 

“ Well,” said Florinda, slowly turning away 
from the window, “ lookin’ the matter square in 
the face, I don’t see why she isn’t just like us. 
She’s a gal, and she’s got spirits, and I suppose 
the fellers do put on uppish airs toward her just 
like they do to us, though I never thought of it 
before.” 

Alice Dawn wished that she might meet Joe 


102 


The Chauiauqtcans, 


Warren, while she was thinking over the conver- 
sation in the humble home that she had just left. 
Perhaps she could meet him if she were to walk 
through the main street of the village, for she 
seldom was on that thoroughfare without seeing 
the young man standing idly about somewhere. 
The sun was not yet down ; there was ample 
time for her to reach home before dark ; so she 
made excuses to drop into two or three stores, 
and then slowly walked toward the post-office. 
True to his custom. Master Joe was standing in 
front of the building, chatting with two other 
young men who seemed to have as little to do as 
he. As he saw Miss Dawn approaching, he de- 
tached himself from his acquaintances and joined 
her. 

“Any news to-day. Miss Dawn, about the 
movement for the regeneration of society in' 
Brinston T* 

“ Yes, a great deal," said Alice, with emphasis, 
and then repeated as much as she could remem- 
ber of her conversation with the Purkises. 

“ That’s extraordinary," exclaimed the young 
man. “ Don’t you think so ?" 

“ I can’t say, not being myself a young man ; 


Among the Backsliders, 103 

but as a member of the weaker sex 1 may say for 
myself that it is one of the most rebuking, stimu- 
lating incidents in my life. The idea of those 
poor people, without anything in the world 
to make life happy or pleasant, having been in. 
cited to interest in improving themselves 
and in making themselves mentally the equals 
of those about them! Why, it’s one of the 
grandest revelations of the possibility of edu- 
cation that I ever saw. In school I heard a 
great deal of that sort of thing, but it never 
came vividly to my own comprehension until 
this afternoon. I’ve always had quite a good 
opinion of myself — ” 

“ With ample reason. I’m sure,” interrupted 
the young man. 

“ But,” continued the girl, “ Tm compelled to 
feel abashed and somewhat humiliated by the 
example those young women have set me. I 
hope the young men of the town are showing an 
equally admirable spirit.” 

“ I hope so, though I’m not able to speak for 
them.” 

“ Why not? You’re well acquainted with all 
of them, aren’t you ? What do you young men 


104 


The Chautaiiquans, 


talk about when you meet, may I ask, if it isn’t 
an impertinent question?” 

“ The question is entirely in order ; but, really, 
I don’t know how to answer,” said Joe. “ Of 
course, you can’t expect us to fall to discussing 
a lot of books.” 

" Perhaps not ; but — I ask merely for informa- 
tion ; you know 1 have no brothers — do young 
men talk no more interestingly than they look, 
as they stand about on street-corners, and in 
front of shops, and at the post-office, and at the 
railway-station? Because if they don’t, 1 should 
think that their lives must be inexpressibly 
dismal.” 

The young man looked somewhat indignant, 
but succeeded in replying: 

Well, really — I’ll — I’ll ask how they get on 
with their readings.” 

Good-day ; don’t forget to let me know.” 

Joe’s face was a study as he gazed down the 
street after the handsome retreating figure, and 
he muttered to himself : 

“ I declare, that girl’s got a great deal of spit- 
fire in her! I don’t know, after all, whether it’s 
safe for me to be as fond of her as I want to. 


Among the Backslider's. 


105 


Suppose the thing should turn out just as Td 
like, I don’t know whether I’d be entirely happy 
to have my wife with the Purkis girls on her call- 
ing-list. I supposed there was more balance to 
the heads of the Dawn family than that. Girls 
smarter than boys! Well, whatever may come 
of this new experiment, Miss Alice, 1 can tell 
you that you’ll have to get that idea out of 
your pretty little head. If you don’t — well, I 
shall have to change my affections to some one 
else. Heaven save me from a smart wife ! Yet 
I don’t suppose I could be happy if I married a 
fool. I wonder where is the golden mean in 
womankind? I’ll be very careful about com- 
mitting myself. Girls smarter than boys 1 I 
wonder what that girl would think if she knew 
the work of a regular college course, as I do ? 
I’ll show her that she can’t be smarter than I — 
in this particular course, at any rate. I 
wonder how far she’s gone ? 1 know very well 

how far I haven’t gone ; I must pull my wits 
together and cram as 1 had to do at school 
toward the end of the term. I supposed I was 
over that sort of thing when I graduated, but 
I’m more afraid of that young woman than I 


to6 


The Chautauqzians, 


ever was of tutor or professor. To think there 
is to be four years of it! Well, if things go on 
as I want them to, something will have to 
happen : Either I shall marry early in the 
course, or I shall have to leave town.’' 


CHAPTER VII. 

“ where’s the good ?’* 

By the time the Brinston Circle had complet- 
ed its second month of reading, the town had 
unanimously agreed that the individual who, 
above all others, got the full worth of his time 
and money out of the course, was Postmaster 
Brown. There had been no difficulty in coming 
to this conclusion, because Mr. Brown himself 
made no end of statements to that effect. 

“ People come in here for their letters, or to 
buy something,” said the postmaster-storekeeper. 
“ After that’s done, they hang around here and 
want to talk; it always was so ; Pve always en- 
couraged people to hang around, because a good 


“ Where s the Goodf 


many people buy something that they mightn’t 
have thought to get, if they’d gone right out. 
Sometimes, though, the talk has been mighty slow 
in this store ; there’s some people who can’t open 
words with you in any way but by talking about 
the weather, or the change of the moon, or about 
the rain we’ve been having or haven’t had. If 
they can’t help it, I don’t mind it ; I’m willing to 
take my share of other people’s burdens, but I 
think I’ve carried all the rain on my shoulders 
that they’ll stand ; I don’t believe anybody, 
except Noah, ever knew as much or heard as 
much about rain as a country storekeeper and 
postmaster. After the weather, folks generally 
get to talking about somebody’s farm, or some- 
body’s business — none of them are any of the 
business of the talker at all. People seem to 
think I get a mighty good living, being as I’m 
postmaster and storekeeper, too, but I tell you I 
think I pay for it all by what I have to stand. I 
like good company as much as anybody, but 
folks that talk without saying anything, are 
more disappointing than an empty teacup. 
Well, nowadays, when such people come in. 


io8 


The Chauta7iquans. 


before they can get out a word about the 
weather, I get in one about the reading.” 

“ You must have more gift of the gab then than 
I have,” said Mr. Broad, to whom the remarks 
were addressed, “for I can’t for the life of me 
ask people questions about what they’ve been 
reading in books. It doesn’t seem to come 
natural to me somehow; I want to, but I can’t 
put the words together.” 

“ Well, I can’t say that I know how to do it, 
either ; but, on the other hand, 1 don’t have to ; 
I generally say: ‘Well, how are you getting 
along with the reading ?’ and they generally 
answer : ‘ Oh, slowly !’ Then about three-quar- 
ters of them say : ‘ I don’t see what’s goin’ to be 
the good of it, anyhow.’ Then I let out on them.” 

“ You do, eh ? Then suppose you let out on 
me, for I’m beginning to think that to giveaway 
about three-quarters of an hour a day of my time, 
all of which is worth a great deal of money, and 
I haven’t enough, as it is. to look after my own 
affairs correctly, is doing more than I ought to 
feel called upon to do for the public benefit. I 
don’t see what use it’s going to be to me, except 
as I’m acting as an example to other people.” 


Where s the Good?'" 


109 


“ I did not think that of you, Mr. Broad,” said 
the store-keeper. 

“ I’m glad I told you about it, then ; you are 
a pretty smart fellow, I know, but you can’t 
expect to know about everything without being 
told. What good is this thing going to be tome, 
personally, for my own sake ?” 

“Well, if you want to know I’ll tell you, but 
I’ll have to talk pretty plain, and I don’t want 
you to get mad and take your trade away from 
my store. Every little is a help ; yours is a good 
deal, I don’t mind admitting.” 

“ Oh, fire away ! Say your worst ; you can’t 
frighten me.” 

“ Here goes, then : For one thing, its going to 
broaden your mind. You strong, determined, 
earnest, successful business men are the narrow- 
est-headed set of fellows on the face of God’s 
earth. There !” 

The manufacturer frowned and flushed ; his 
glance turned into a glare, but the storekeeper 
met his eye steadily, and Broad finally said : 

“ You do know how to take a man at his word. 
Go right along, though.” 

“ I mean exactly what I said,” the post-master 


I lO 


The Chautauquans. 


continued. “ Men who succeed seem to think 
that success in their own particular line is all 
that they need ; they’re so outrageously self-sat- 
isfied that they don’t know how ignorant they 
are; for that reason they often make themselves 
very disagreeable — don’t get mad, now — I don’t 
appl}^ that particular portion of my remarks to 
you personally ; you know you and I have always 
got along well enough, and I’m as quick tempered 
as anybody else, and being in a position where 
I’m expected to please" every one, doesn’t make 
me any more patient than is natural.” 

The manufacturer faced the door of the store, 
and seemed to be deep in thought. 

“ Ain’t I right ?” the store-keeper went on, 
“ or haven’t you thought it out yet? You know 
perfectly well that after you’re done thinking 
about your business and your home affairs, 
politics is about the only outside thing you ever 
give any attention to ; you don’t attend half as 
much to that as you ought to — at least, not in the 
right way. Neither do I, I admit ; I’m judging you 
by myself a good deal ; I think for a man with 
brains in his head. I’m as narrow-minded a man 
as there is in town, present company excepted.” 


Where s the Good?' 


1 1 1 




The manufacturer grinned grimly. 

“ So long as there's two of a kind,” said he, “ I 
guess 1 can stand what else you have to say. 
Go ahead, I’m curious for you to explain how 
reading the probable condition of rocks and 
water and plants on the earth a few thousand 
years ago is going to broaden my mind any.” 

“ It is going to compel you to think, with 
some purpose besides money-making; any such 
thought will improve your mind and broaden it. 
Real thought — I don’t mean selfish scheming — 
strengthens a man’s mind in every direction, just 
as that idiotic game of tennis strengthens the 
girls’ bodies in every way. Learning to think of 
what you’re reading about in geology will make 
you better able to think about politics, and you 
can’t learn too much of that sort of thing. 
Some day this district may nominate you for 
Congress, and you know you’re dying to be sent 
to Washington, but you ought to know that 
you’ve got to put more knowledge of politics 
into your head than is there now, if you ever 
expect to do anything in Congress, or to get 
3 ^our name into the papers. Folks who haven’t 
always been your neighbors can’t be expected 


1 12 


The Chautauquans, 


to know whether you’re sensible or not, except 
by what you say and do. What do you know, 
anyhow, but iron-casting and trading real 
estate?” 

“ ril show you, confound you, if ever I reach 
Washington.” 

“ Your girls,” continued the postmaster, “ have 
been through a female seminary, and I suppose 
they’ve learned everything that money could 
teach them, haven’t they ?” 

“ If they haven’t, they ought to be ashamed of 
themselves. The bills were big enough while 
they were there.” 

“ I suppose you can chat with them about any. 
thing they learned?” 

“ I never had an opportunity ; they never men- 
tion any such subjects to me — didn’t even while 
they were at school.” 

“ Oh, I suppose it never occurred to you to 
wonder what the reason was, did it?” 

Again the manufacturer frowned and flushed. 
The postmaster went on: 

“ They probably think that their daddy is a 
good enough man in a business way ; but he 


Where s the Good?'" 


113 

doesn’t know anything except how to manage 
business and isn’t interested in anything else. 
That’s the way my boys have been thinking 
about me a good deal of the time ; but I’ve 
opened their eyes lately. I don’t intend that 
they shall think of me, after I’m gone, as simply 
somebody that made a home for them, supplied 
them with clothes, sent them to school, and 
scolded them when they did wrong. I want to 
be company for them and to make them regard 
me as a friend as well as a parent. I know I’ve 
been pretty late in beginning, but now that I’ve 
got my mind on it I’m going to stick to it and 
have those two young men think that I’m one of 
the nicest fellows there is in this town, even if I 
am a good deal older than they. It’s none of 
my business to tackle you about your family 
affairs ; but don’t you really think, as those two, 
young ladies haven’t any mother, that their 
father might see to it that they have first-rate 
company when there’s no one in the house 
except the family ? I wish I had a couple of 
daughters to talk to — I’m sur.e that it would 
have a broadening effect upon my mind.” 

“ I think the world of those two daughters of 


The Chant miqjians. 


114 


mine, Mr. Brown,*' said the manufacturer ; “ but, 
really, women aren’t like men ; they don’t talk 
on the same subjects nor seem to be interested 
in them.” 

“ According to what you said a few moments 
ago, you don’t know anything about it. You 
haven’t given them a chance ; you haven’t been 
able to meet them on their own ground — such 
ground as they brought away from college with 
them. Of course, that isn’t the only thing in the 
world to talk about.” 

“ Well, Brown, 1 don’t know but you’re a 
great deal more than half right. You needn t 
tell me any more to-day, though ; I guess I’ve 
got about as much as I can stand. Here comes 
Whitton, the minister. I suppose, now, if he 
were to ask you the same question as 1 — though, 
of course, he won’t do it — you would answer 
him in as plain talk as you have been giving me ?” 

“Why not? He’s an honest man, isn’t he? 
He ought to be, as he’s a minister.” 

“Yes, I suppose so ; but — sh-h-h-h-h ! Here 
he is now. I’m going to get in ahead of you.” 
Then, as he shook hands with his pastor, he 
said : 


W her is the Good?' 


(( 


»> 


1^5 


“ Dominie, everybody that comes into this 
post-office has to be asked how they are get- 
ting along with the reading. I know, though, 
that Brown is bashful in the presence of the 
clergy, so I’ll ask you in his place.” 

“Those readings,” said the minister, “are 
really a greater tax on my time and mind than I 
had any idea they possibly could be when we 
began them. Between writing sermons, visiting 
the sick, receiving visitors and attending to 
necessary correspondence. I’ve very little time 
for anything. If it weren’t for withdrawing 
from others the force of my example, such as it 
may be. I’d be very glad, indeed, to give up the 
work ; for, between ourselves, I really don’t see 
what especial use it is to me personally.” 

The manufacturer grinned gleefully, and almost 
shouted as he said : 

“ Now, Brown, go in ! Flay him alive, as you 
did me !” 

The minister looked inquiringly ; the manu- 
facturer went on : 

“ I came here and made almost the same 
remark. Brown’s been turning my soul inside 
out for me, and giving me a look at it.” 


The CJiautauqiians, 


1 16 


“ I’m always glad to learn,” said the minister, 
“and I cheerfully admit that Mr. Brown’s had 
far more experience in this world than I ; so if 
he can tell me what 1 am to gain by going on 
with this course, I shall feel indebted to him.” 

The store-keeper delicately poised his yard- 
stick, and looked through the window toward 
the clear sky beyond ; he seemed to meditate 
for a moment or two, and then he said : 

“ Most ministers that I have known have 
thought and talked so much about the other 
world that they put people under the impres- 
sion that they didn’t know anything in parties 
ular about this one. That always has a bad 
effect upon human nature.” 

“ You must admit. Brother Brown,” said the 
minister, with extreme precision in his tone, 
“ that I have always endeavored to take an inter- 
est in whatever seemed for the welfare of the 
people of my place of residence.” 

“ You certainly have, Mr. Whitton.” 

“ You’ll probably admit, also, that I am a hard 
student ?” 

“ So I should judge from the great quantity of 
books and other printed matter that reaches you 


Where's the Good f 


117 

through this office ; you get far more than any 
one else in the village, I assure you. But, if it’s 
a fair question, how much of all you get and 
read is about anything except theology, religion 
and the work of the church ? — all subjects, I 
know, that you are obliged to keep yourself 
informed about. It does seem to me, though, 
that human nature is about the biggest subject 
and the most important one that any minister 
can read about, and most ministers that I know 
have got almost all they know about it out of 
religious books, that only interest themselves in 
a very, very small part of human nature.” 

‘‘ The most important part, however.” 

“ I agree with you as to anything you can 
say about the importance or greatness of the 
human soul and the necessity of studying it ; 
but that’s just where the point comes in. These 
books look at it from only one single standpoint, 
and it isn’t enough. You must go a great deal 
farther if you want to understand people — to 
manage them— to do them good. For instance, 
you’re a very sympathetic man ; your sympathy 
goes a very great way ; but there comes a place 
where it is of no use, unless it is backed up by a 


i8 


The Chautatiquans. 


good deal of special knowledge. Right there is 
the place where most ministers fail. Please 
don’t imagine there’s anything personal in my 
remarks.” 

“ Thank you.’’ Again the minister’s accent 
was extremely dignified. 

“ Don’t get angry, Mr. Whitton, but I want to 
ask you a fair question about your own business, 
as I may call it. You needn’t answer it if you 
don’t want to. A great many people come to 
you with their troubles, of course — they do to 
all ministers. Now, if it’s a fair question, as I 
said, how many of these people, how large a 
proportion of them, young and old, are what you 
would really call intelligent people, if you met 
them in any other capacity ?” 

The minister mused, and finally answered : 

“ I’m sorry to say a very small proportion.” 

“ Exactly. Here is Broad, now. Did he ever 
come to you in affliction of any kind, to ask your 
advice and counsel?” 

The pastor and his richest parishioner looked 
at each other rather uncomfortably as the minis- 
ter replied : 

“ I reallj^ can’t remember that he ever did.” 


Where s the Good f ’ 




n 


119 


“ I supposed not ; yet he’s come in here fre- 
quently for a word of advice about matters that 
didn’t exactly concern his business. Why did 
he come to me ? He didn’t think any more of 
me than of a lot of other men in town here. I 
suppose he came in because he thought that 
from my experience in thinking of every-day 
affairs, I must have learned something that would 
make me fit to advise him. Ministers can’t 
afford to let any layman get ahead of them in 
that way.” 

“ Certainly not ; but — ” 

“ But what is the reading of these books for 
four long years going to do to make you any 
more useful to — ” 

That’s exactly the question I should have 
asked.” 

“ It’s going to give you an entirely new set of 
— of touching points with all the people in this 
community ; giving you one more way, or a 
dozen more ways, of making people acquainted 
with you. You know how people regard min- 
isters ; they generally expect to be met with a 
long face, or at least with some solemn words ; 
they always act differently in the presence of 


120 


I'he CJiautauquans, 


the minister from what they do if they meet any 
one else ; they act more stupidly, too, and 
they’re less at ease ; they’ve a general idea that the 
minister thinks that all the soul’s fit for is to be 
saved from trouble in the next world. People’s 
notion, as a rule, is that it is a great deal harder 
to live well than to die well ; they’re always 
running up against stumbling blocks when they 
talk to the minister. Of course, there are 
exceptions — very pleasant ones — one in this 
room — but no man is so good that he can’t be 
better ; no man shows off so well before other 
folks, has so good an opinion formed of him, as 
the fellow who can talk about something besides 
his own business.” 

“ Your criticism of men of my profession, as a 
rule, is just,” said the minister ; “ but I have 
flattered myself — perhaps I have been over- 
confident — that I succeeded fairly in avoiding 
that fault, or all the faults you mention, and have 
tried to be thoroughly in sympathy with my 
people.” 

Just so ; you have. All of us see it ; so why 
should you begin to stop ?” 

“ Stop? 1 don’t quite understand you.” 


67^6 s the Good f 


I2I 


“ Why, here is something- new in which thirty 
or forty of us are very much interested, and — ” 

“ 1 see,” said the minister slowly. “Yes, I see 
clearly.” 

“ Then let’s leave,” said the manufacturer. “ 1 
think for two men of our standing to be lectured 
within the same half-hour is an outrage and a 
humiliation. I wish I had the pluck to talk to 
some of my working people as straightforward 
as Brown has talked to us.” 

“ I really think, Mr. Brown,” said the pastor, 
“that you ought to study for the ministry. If 
you could talk to the general public as pointedly 
as you have to us, you might do a great deal of 
good.” 

The two men left the store. The proprietor 
looked after them, and said to himself : 

“No wonder a lot of the younger folks — folks 
that haven’t got much force or go to them — keep 
asking : ' What’s the good ?’ if two men like 

those, with strong heads and good sense and 
habits of sticking to whatever they begin, are 
ready to stop. Human nature is pretty weak 
stuff, after all. Well, all the more reason why 
it should be strengthened.” 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE OUTS AGA.INST THE INS. 

In addition to such trouble as the members of 
the Brinston Circle had with their own disincli- 
nation to work, and their doubts as to the final 
use of the knowledge they were accumulating, 
there was to be met the exasperating and some- 
times discouraging effects of outside criticism. 
The pestilent class that cannot endure to have 
others doing what it is not doing itself, was quite 
as strong and aggressive in Brinston as else- 
where, so almost every member of the circle had 
to hear criticisms and sometimes taunts from ac- 
quaintances. Not all of Alice Dawn’s popularity 
among the girls of her own age was sufficient to 
make the reading course popular with the major- 
ity of young women in town ; even of those who 
began, a large portion fell away, and, like perverts 
[ 122 ] 



The Outs Against the Ins. 123 

and apostates everywhere else, became worse 
than such detractors as were merely ignorant. 
It required Miss Dawn’s best temper and tact to 
parry the sharp cuts and heavy blows that came 
from the members of her own sex — girls with 
whom she never had had an unpleasant word or 
experience so long as she devoted herself to 
what is popularly known as “having a good 
time.” That the elder members of the Dawn fam- 
ily should interest themselves in “ poky” subjects 
seemed quite natural and proper to the younger 
people ; for what else was there for men and 
women to do when they were married and too old 
to dance ? They might play cards ; there were 
sets in town of middle-aged people who spent 
each evening at card-playing, but somehow the 
Dawns seemed to take no interest in that partic- 
ular form of amusement, and that they should 
read books about people who lived two thousand 
years ago and other stupid things, and talk about 
them to each other, was natural in the circum- 
stances ; but for their daughter to do so, and 
their mischievous son Frank, too — that was quite 
another thing. 

Joe Warren had to hear such remarks, at 


124 


The Chautauquans, 


times, to such an extent that life became a bur- 
den to him. It was not in his nature to listen to 
any criticisms of Miss Dawn without replying at 
once in the defense ; but among the outs were 
many young women with sharp tongues and 
brilliant wits. Human minds that have nothing 
in particular to carry, sometimes make very 
effective spurts ; the consequence was that 
Master Joseph occasionally heard things and 
received thrusts so sharp and severe that the 
wounds rankled for some time afterward. The 
pain was all the greater, and so was the annoy, 
ance, because the young man was half inclined 
to agree with the fair critic. However good a 
lot of reading might be to people who never had 
learned before, he was very decidedly of the 
opinion that better use could be found for Miss 
Dawn’s time. His mind was quite full, entirely 
to his liking, of the young woman’s glorious 
eyes, splendid complexion, fine figure and grace- 
ful carriage, and he felt that he could talk 
fluently on all these subjects and express his 
conclusions in a very effective manner if he 
might have the opportunity; but whenever he 
called, the young woman, as well as her parents, 


The Out: A gams t the Ins. 


125 


spent a great deal of time in conversation about 
the circle. They never discouraged his remarks 
about anything that he had seen or heard that 
was of general interest; but when opportunity 
presented itself for speaking of the subject near- 
est his heart, he received no encouragement 
whatever. Evenings were not thus spent by 
other young men and women — at least it did not 
seem so from Joe’s principal sources of informa- 
tion, to wit : novels of the day and some poetry, 
ancient and modern. 

He had to endure a great deal of teasing on 
his own account, too. He could not go into the 
room of the Wheelmen’s Club, to which he 
belonged, without being asked whether Socrates 
rode a safety or an ordinary ; and when he 
wearied of the chaffing, and strolled down to the 
water’s edge for a quiet chat and smoke at the 
Yacht Club, some one was anxious to learn 
whether the ships which Homer says carried 
the champions of Helen’s indignant husband 
to Troy were cutters or centerboards. If he 
dropped into the shop of the village tobacconist, 
where he always was sure to find several young 
men lounging, he was asked his opinion as to the 


126 


The C hmitauquaiis . 


brand of tobacco which Demosthenes smoked 
while resting after one of his oratorical efforts, 
and whether he took his tobacco in a long pipe 
or a short one. Under this form of pleasantry, 
Joe frequently lost his temper, to the great 
delight of his tormentors, and he was not helped 
to regain it by the thought that the misery 
probably would endure through four years. 

Even the postmaster had to endure a great deal 
of chaffing from people of every class ; his usual 
imperturbability only stimulated the crowd to 
reserve their best efforts for him. How much 
he was sustained by the feeling that sooner or 
later he could take it out of the most of them 
in the course of trade he never disclosed, but he 
was known to say to his own sons on several 
occasions that if his tormentors knew how little 
they were tormenting him they would not seem 
so happy. 

But the principal butts of the town jokers and 
indignant persons were the poor members of 
the Purkis family. The young men of the town 
who had been children when the girls were 
going to school, had always treated Purkis’s 
daughters with insolent familiarity born of con- 


The Outs Against the Ins. 


127 


tempt for persons of low estate ; so now they 
lost but few opportunities for being annoying. 
The younger Miss Purkis was splendid game 
for them, according to the average young man’s 
idea of “game.” She didn’t know what to do 
or what to say ; she blushed, frowned and 
looked troubled and frightened ; all of which 
delighted her tormentors about as the miseries 
of a maiden martyr being torn to pieces by 
wild beasts in the arena used to please the 
juvenile swells of ancient Rome. With Florinda 
the young men were not quite so successful. 
What her mind lacked in education it made up 
in quickness, and her command of language, 
when her indignation was aroused, soon com- 
pelled a number of her tormentors to hold her in 
respect and awe. One night she returned home 
from a short and modest shopping tour in the 
village, threw upon the table a few edibles which 
she had purchased, and said to her mother : 

“ I don’t believe this world’s any better than 
it was in the old times when folks used to take a 
delight in seeing each other killed !” 

“Who’s been botherin’ you. I’d like to know ?” 
said the mother, with an angry start. 


128 


The Chant auquans. 


“ That young snip of a Houghton whose linen 
1 took home to-day after you’d done it,” was 
the reply. “ If it hadn’t been for our supper 
and breakfast depending on the money for it I’d 
have thrown his things in his face.” 

“ What did he say ? I guess your father has . 
got muscle enough — ” 

“ Oh, he wasn’t insulting ; he was just badger- 
ing. He asked impish questions about the 
readings. What I’d like to know is this : If 
education can’t give a fellow of that sort man- 
ners, what’s the use of folks like us trying to get 
any ?” 

“ Daughter,” said the old woman, “ you know 
the old say in’, ‘You can lead a horse to water 
but you can’t make him drink.’ All the colleges 
in the world can’t make a gentleman out of a 
young feller that’s determined on bein’ a cub ; 
but just let me get my tongue at that young 
man; I’ll make him ashamed of himself, if he’s 
got any man in him.” 

‘‘Don’t you try, mother; don’t you try. I’d 
rather stand anything myself than have you 
insulted. You don’t know what a smooth, sharp 


The Outs Against the Ins. 


129 


tongue and impudent face that sort of fellow 
can have.’' 

“ I don’t eh? well, I guess I’ve been a gal 
myself, in this very town. Nobody knows bet- 
ter than I do, what a mean, contemptible lot of 
brutes there can be inside of nice suits of clothes ; 
I ain’t afraid, though, to lay my wits alongside of 
his or those of any other young loafer. It was 
half-way to get rid of his father that I married 
your father, and I want you to understand, seein’ 
that you’ve heard me sayin’ a good many things 
here in the house when I haven’t been in as good 
temper as I might, that didn’t seem very com- 
plimentary to your father — I want you to under- 
stand, no matter what he was doin’ or not doin’ in 
the way of work, he never let anybody insult his 
wife ! There’s two or three men in this town, 
pretty high ' up, too, that learned that your 
father’s fist weighed about a ton when he was 
angry. If here he don’t come now! What in 
goodness’s name has come over him, knockin’ off 
work in the middle of the mornin’ ? I do hope 
he ain’t goin’ to git back into keerless \yays 
again.” 

Purkis entered the room, and threw his hat 


T30 


The Chautauqtmfis, 


across the bed with so much vigor that it struck 
the side of the house with a sharp blow. 

“ Be you sick, Madison ?” 

“ No, no ; it ain’t anythin’ like that, but I was 
gettin’ in a lot of Brown’s fodder in the field, 
and, upon my word, if a lot of them young loafers 
from the village didn’t come around there and 
lean on the fence and badger me with questions.” 

“ What about ?” 

“ What about ? Why, what do you suppose ? 
About nothin’ except this readin’ course. Why, 
you’d think to hear the way them fellers talk, 
and the way they’ve pestered me around the vil- 
lage for the past month or two, that there wasn’t 
anythin’ else to talk about.” 

“Well, I suppose there ain’t — that is, nothin' 
new.” 

“ But you’d think, wouldn’t you, that when a 
man’s been down as long as I have, and every- 
body knows it, that young men that haven’t any 
reason for havin’ anythin’ against me would be 
kind of glad to see that I’ve got a start, and be 
willin’ to say a friendly word once in a while, 
instead of tryin’ to worry the life out of me? 
Goodness knows it’s hard enough to get in 


The Outs Against the Ins, 131 

fodder, if you don’t have anythin’ else to worry 
you. But that ain’t the worst of it. I got 
mad ; they finally got so sassy and mean, that I 
got mad an’ jumped across the fence an’ told 
them they could either shut up or be knocked 
down ; an’ that young sprig of Houghton’s went 
right on talkin’ as if he didn’t think I meant it, so 
I gave him one whack between the eyes, an’ 
dropped him into a ditch.” 

“Good for you!” exclaimed Mrs. Purkis, 
while Florinda clapped her hands with glee. 
‘ Madison, I’m proud of you !” 

“ Yes, that’s all very well, but he’s a very 
good customer of Brown’s, and buys lots of cart- 
ridges for that new-fangled rifle of his, to say 
nothin’ of the special tobacco that Brown buys 
for him in the city ; and he swore that he’d make 
Brown turn me off or else he’d take his custom 
away from him.” 

“ Mr. Brown is too decent a man to do any- 
thing like that, I know,” said the woman. 

“ That’s all you know about business,” the hus- 
band replied. “ He ain’t agoin’ to lose a good 
customer for the sake of befriendin’ a feller like 
me,” 


1^2 


The Chautauquans, 


“ Then I reckon you can find somethin’ to do 
somewhere else, now you’ve learned how to 
stick to work, and if you can’t, why, I guess that 
my old arms are strong enough yet to keep the 
family from starvin’ ; goodness knows, they’ve 
done it enough. I didn’t say that to throw any- 
thin’ upon you, though. I’m gladder to hear 
of your knockin’ that feller down than if you’d 
brought home a week’s pay unexpected.” 

Purkis looked at his wife curiously for a 
moment. 

Go it, old girl — young girl, I mean. By 
gracious, you look twenty years younger within 
the last two minutes !” 

“ I feel twenty years younger, too. Madi- 
son, I’m proud of you ; you — you — you’re just 
what I thought you was when I married you, 
an’ I don’t care who knows it !” 

“Well, Maria, seein’ there’s nobody here but 
the gals, I guess the knowin’ of it isn’t goin’ very 
far, though come to think of it, I don’t know of 
anybody I’d rather have know it. I hope 
you heard what your mother said, Florinda, 
Arabella !” 

The man still stood with his arm about his 


The Outs Against the Ins. 


133 


wife, when a shadow was cast upon them from 
the window, and, an instant later, Postmaster 
Brown stood in the doorway, which Purkis, in 
spite of the coldness of the weather, had care- 
lessly left open. As he entered there was a 
speedy disentanglement of husband and wife. 
The visitor remarked: 

“ Don’t mind me — 1 used to be quite accus- 
tomed to that sort of thing — wish I were yet, but 
1 can’t reach all the way from here to Heaven. 
Say, Purkis, young Houghton came into the 
store a few minutes ago in a high state of excite- 
ment.” 

“Yes, I suppose so,” said the man, taking a 
dejected attitude. 

“ I made him explain himself,” continued the 
postmaster, “ and, by asking a good many ques- 
tions, got the whole truth out of him. Purkis, 
Pm astonished at you ! You’re a — you’re a — 
Purkis, you’re a brick. You’ve done that read- 
ing-circle an awful lot of good by taking the 
conceit out of that young fellow ; ’pon my word 
nothing has happened in a long time that’s done 
me so much good. Why, I locked up the store 
right straight away, at the risk of losing two or 


134 


The Chautauquans. 


three customers, and came out to look you up 
to tell you about it. I don’t know how to tell 
you how glad I am. See here; I’m going to 
raise your pay fifty cents a day, right here, from 
this very day; that will make you understand 
how delighted I am, I guess. That husband of 
yours has got his second wind, Mrs. Purkis ; he’s 
going to come out splendid now. We’ll get him 
on the town committee yet ; a man that knows 
how to handle fools is just the man we need at 
the present time. I’m going to send one of the 
boys down to keep store for me right after din- 
ner, so I can go out and tell Broad about it ; 
it’ll just delight his soul. Shouldn’t wonder after 
that if 1 could get Broad to give you a first-rate 
job at the mill that will last you all winter. You 
know I don’t feel sure that I’ve got anything to 
do after things freeze up. Fine grit in that father 
of yours, Miss Florinda ;” for the postmaster had 
just discovered that the girls were standing 
behind the door, looking on with some amaze- 
ment ; “ fine grit, and no mistake.” 

'‘But isn’t it mean, Mr. Brown,” said the 
older daughter, “ that people ’ve got to be pes- 
tered in this way just because they’re trying to 


The Outs Against the Ins. 


135 


do somethin’ to make themselves better and 
more sensible ? 

• “ Of course it is ; but you mustn’t mind that 
sort of thing in this world. Everybody’s jealous 
of folks that’s getting ahead of them. Those 
young loungers are really jealous of your father ; 
that’s the reason they went round to tease him. 
Just remember that. Now when anybody tries 
to talk to you in the same way, ‘ he laughs best 
who laughs last.’ Don’t forget that. I suppose 
some of them will be chaffing Broad pretty 
soon, if they dared to do it. Well, • I don’t 
know as I ought to have come around and shut 
up the store ; but I don’t give myself that luxury 
very often, and I do assure you that this has 
been one. Don’t mind about going back to the 
lot again before dinner, Purkis. Just stay home 
and glorify yourself ; give your family a chance 
to admire you. It isn’t often that a fool gets 
knocked down in this town, and the man who 
does it ought to be looked at and admired by 
those who know him. Pve half a mind to ask 
you to come up to the store after dinner, to let 
me show you off to everybody that comes in.” 

“ S’pose, though, the fellow sues me for assault 


136 


The Chautmiquans. 


and batter}^ ?” suggested the hero of the occa- 
sion. 

“ Sues you ? Assault and battery ? Nonsense ! 
Do you suppose he’d be fool enough to get up 
and explain before a whole crowd of people ? 
Besides, if he does, both Broad and I will go you 
bail, and be mighty glad of the chance. Good- 
day, all.” 

“ Father,” said Florinda, “ you look as if you 
had grown an inch in the past ten minutes.” 

“Well, I feel as if I had grown a foot,” the 
man replied. “ It’s been so long since I’ve heard 
a word of praise for myself about anythin’ what- 
ever that I’m almost out of my head ; but ” — 
here he again looked at his wife and threw his 
arms about her shoulders — “ to see this dear 
woman lookin’ at me in this way, I know that I 
am in the right. To see her lookin’ at me with 
the eyes she had twenty years ago ! If studyin’ 
the Chautauqua course an’ indulgin’ in a knock, 
down once in a while is goin’ to have that sort 
of effect. I’ll keep studyin’ an’ fightin’ to the end 
of my days !” 

Mrs. Purkis seemed about to say something, 
but evidently she changed her mind, for she put 


The Purkis Crowd. 


137 


both arms around her husband's neck and burst 
into tears. The head of the family said : 

“ Why, Maria, what’s makin’ you feel so bad?” 
The answer was: 

“ I ain’t feelin’ bad ; I never felt so good in all 
my life.” 


CHAPTER IX, 

THE PURKIS CROWD. 

The men with whom the head of the Purkis 
family had most associated in recent years, were 
the torment and despair of the community. Had 
they been worse, the reputable citizens would 
have been happier, for then the town might have 
got rid of them. Thieves could be sent to prison 
for a long period ; brawlers could be put in the 
town lock-up, and sentenced to expiate their 
offense by working hard at repairing the local 
roads — a penalty which prisoners regarded 
almost worse than death. But the “Purkis 
crowd,” as the villagers had come to call a lot of 
undesirable citizens, was not given to brawling ; 


138 


The Chaiitauquans. 


and though all of its members were suspected of 
petty larceny, they stole so slyly that they never 
had been detected. 

Had this set lived in Europe two or three 
hundred years ago, they would have adopted 
nomadic ways and called themselves gypsies ; 
had they originated in certain parts of the West, 
the}" would have been called Pikes;” at Brins- 
ton they occasionally contributed of their num. 
ber to the great army of tramps. They were 
born with a fair share of sense and other desira- 
ble human qualities, but seemed to have an 
unconquerable aversion to exerting any of them. 
All were quite as competent as any of their 
neighbors to earn proper food, clothing and 
shelter for their families, but rarely was one of 
them seen doing work of more serious kind than 
going fishing or hunting. Exceptions were to 
be noted when a merchant needed some one to 
work two or three hours, the pay to be in store 
goods.” On such occasions a member of the 
Purkis crowd would earn enough ammunition 
for a long hunt, and tobacco enough to last a few 
days. During the time when not working, 
shooting or fishing, the members of the crowd 


The Purkis Croivd. 


139 


could all be found at any horse race, shooting 
match, ball game, fire, coroner’s inquest or other 
affair which men who earned their living seldom 
found time to attend. 

What most enraged the reputable residents, 
as they talked of the Purkis crowd, was that 
some of the worthless fellows had been promis- 
ing when young men. They had all been above 
the average in good looks, spirits and activity, 
and had taken the lead in dances, sleigh ride 
parties, straw-rides and other popular diversions. 
Most of them had dressed better than young men 
who afterward made their mark ; they bought 
the largest of silk handkerchiefs, wore start- 
ling shirt studs and watch chains, and were redo- 
lent of the most expensive new thing in hair oil. 
Naturally they were very popular among the 
girls. A well dressed, lively young man, who 
always was 'ready to get out his horse and buggy 
or to hire a turn-out and take some one out for a 
drive, was better liked by the fair sex than a 
sober youth who was always chained to his plow 
or shop, or to books which were fitting him for a 
profession. These various qualifications probably 
explained why each of the crowd married so 


140 


The Chautauquans, 


well that in after years his wife, no matter how 
worn and shabby, seemed vastly his superior, 
and earned some sort of living for the family 
while her husband enjoyed inelegant leisure and 
haunted the groggeries, of which the town had 
too many. 

All that saved most of these fellows from pun- 
ishment as vagrants was the fact that they had been 
soldiers, and some of them had been wounded. 
The town had sent many men to the armj^, and 
the best of the survivors could be depended 
upon by the worst for protection should severe 
measures be threatened. It requires more than 
ordinary provocation to make the most reputa- 
ble ex-soldier see an old comrade placed among 
ordinary felons and vagrants. 

This was the class that the postmaster, the 
manufacturer and the minister expected Purkis 
to interest in the Chautauqua reading course ; so 
it was no wonder that Purkis himself lost tem- 
per, one day, when the three most prominent 
members of the local circle attempted to hold 
him to account for not bringing in recruits. 

“You folks don’t know what you’re talkin’ 
about,” said Purkis. “ I’ve had more cussin’s 


The Purkis Crowd. 


141 


and laughin’s-at and bad names called me in the 
last three months than in all my life before. 
Why the fellers are so down on me that they 
won’t even borrow a chew of tobacco of me any 
longer. What do you think of that?” 

“ That does look serious,” the postmaster ad- 
mitted ; while the manufacturer shook his head 
and declared : 

“ They’re not worth the rope ’twould take to 
hang them.” 

“We’ve got hold of Mr. Purkis,” said the 
minister, “ and he is doing well — very well. 
Why should we despair of getting the others ?” 

“ Because you don’t go for them in the right 
way,” Purkis replied. “ You’d never have got 
me, I don’t mind tellin’ you, if you hadn’t got 
my wife and family first. I couldn’t stop now if 
I wanted to — I wouldn’t dare to show my face 
in the house again. Not that I want to stop. 1 
don’t mind tellin’ you, gentlemen, countin’ that 
you won’t let it go any farther, that since Pve 
been diggin’ away at work here for Mr. Brown 
and at the books at home, my wife an’ the girls 
seem to have took a new notion to me. To be 
sure, they don’t give me any peace ; if I ain’t at 


142 


The Chant auquans. 


work in one way, they egg me up to doin’ it in 
another way, until it don’t seem as if I ever got 
time to breathe ; but they do seem to be kind o’ 
proud of me ; an’ it’s a mighty comfort, I can 
tell you. If you want to make anythin’ of a 
man that’s down in the world, get a grip on him 
through his family.” 

The three listeners looked thoughtful. The 
manufacturer finally remarked : 

“ Mrs. Purkis is looking better than I’ve seen 
her in ten years, Madison.” 

“ I didn’t s’pose anybody noticed it but me,” 
the man replied ; “ but if any of the rest of you 
see anythin’ of the kind, you needn’t be afraid to 
say so. I’ll promise not to be jealous.” 

The store-keeper devised a new bit of work to 
get Purkis out of the store ; then he looked at 
his associates, and said: 

“ Well ?” 

“ The fellow is right,” Mr. Broad replied ; 
“ but how to get hold of the families first is too 
big a puzzle for me. I don’t see how to go 
about it.” 

Don’t try,” said the postmaster. “You’re 
not made right — not for that sort of work. The 


The Ptirkis Crowd. 


H3 


women must do it ; *at least, they must get hold 
of the mothers and daughters. If you’d pick 
out a lively boy — or more than one — from that 
low gang, and try to make something of him, 
you might help the work along, and do yourself 
some good, too, unless you’ve forgotten that 
once you were a boy. When it comes to the 
bigger part of a family, though, you’d better 
send your daughters to do the work.” 

“My daughters!” exclaimed the manufac- 
turer. “ They’ve more respect for the dirt 
under their feet than for such folks.” 

“ I shouldn’t wonder. Most of us feel the 
same way.” 

“ Awful 1” exclaimed the minister. 

“ True, though,” said Brown. “ Still fathers 
are supposed to have some influence with their 
daughters. It oughtn’t to be insulting to 
remind them that some of these women went to 
school with their mother, and seemed promising 
girls, too, at that time. I’m not ashamed to say 
to you two gentlemen that I gave two or three 
of those very girls a chance to give me the mit- 
ten. Twenty or thirty years of disappointment 


144 


The ChatUatiqttans. 


and drudgery have made sad changes, but the 
original stuff must be there somewhere.” 

“ See here !” exclaimed the manufacturer, 
starting to his feet and pacing the floor. “ W e’ve 
only got hold of the little end of this Chautau- 
qua business thus far. I supposed it was 
merely to be reading — a putting of knowledge 
in the heads of some people who hadn’t any, 
and to polish up some intelligent people 
whose wits had grown rusty. Little by little 
it’s beginning to seem as if it would mean the 
reformation of the whole country.” ^ 

“ No ; of Brinston,” said the postmaster. 

“ It amounts to the same thing in the end,” 
said the minister. “ Mr. Broad is entirely right.” 

“ Of course 1 am,” said the manufacturer, with 
emphasis. ‘‘ What we are doing here other 
circles are attempting elsewhere, and if we all 
live up to the work we’ve taken upon ourselves, 
the result cannot be over-estimated. But think 
of the amount of work to be done. Whew !” 
Mr. Broad paused a moment to pass his hand 
across his forehead as if to wipe away perspira- 
tion ; then he continued : ‘‘ I’d rather have to 

put up a big addition to my foundry and find 


The Purkis Crowd. 


145 


good men to work in it. Just look at it for a 
moment. To say nothing of all the sensible, 
respectable people who are being helped by this 
reading course, and the vacant minded crowd 
that ought to be kept from making fools of 
themselves, here’s this crowd of Purkis’s that’s 
been a greater nuisance to the town than all the 
rogues and tramps put together. Each town 
in the land has just such a crowd. We’ve got 
hold of one man of them, and he is doing well ; 
that shows what would happen to the others if 
we could get them — as we could, if we would 
use proper nerve and tact.” 

“ And money,” suggested the storekeeper. “ If 
I hadn’t paid for their books, and made work for 
Purkis, so as to give him a fresh start, that fam- 
ily wouldn’t be reading now.” 

‘‘ Oh, to be sure,” snapped the manfacturer, 
who had begun to look conservative as soon as 
he heard the word “ money.” Then he halted 
and said : “ Any legitimate business can be 

managed on credit and confidence and bank 
accommodation, but the instant you try to do 
anything for the lower classes — ” 

“ The lowest class,” interrupted the minister. 


146 


The Chaiitauquans. 


“ Call it the lowest, then — the minute you try 
to do anything for that kind of people, you must 
put your hand into your pocket.” 

Suppose you have ?” the minister argued. 
“ Why should you worry ? It doesn't require 
much ; you have plenty ; you can’t carry it with 
you when you die.” 

“ Ha! ha !” laughed the postmaster. 

“Go on!” roared Mr. Broad at Brown. 
“ Why don’t you get off your old joke, and tell 
me my money would melt if I could take it into 
the next world.” 

“ Because it isn’t specie,” was the reply. “ Go 
on with your speech ; it’s the best I ever heard 
you make, and that’s saying a great deal. 
You—” 

“ Thank you ; I don’t know that I have any- 
thing else to say, though, except that if this 
matter is going to be as large as it appears to 
be, that it had better be brought to the atten- 
tion of the whole circle, instead of the work 
dropping upon a very few shoulders, as it verily 
is going to do ; if there is any money to be used 
in the matter it is very plain to see that the 


The Purkis Crowd. 


H7 

postmaster and I will have to contribute the 
most of it.” 

“ I shall do my share,” said the minister, with 
considerable dignity. 

“ Of course you will, dominie ; I didn’t mean 
to offend you, but I don’t see how any minister 
on the salary that you get can afford to spare 
any money. I have always told the congegation 
that your pay ought to be a great deal larger 
than it is.” 

‘‘It is plain enough to see,” said the post- 
master, “from what’s happened to the Purkises, 
that the way to get that particular crowd in 
is to do just what has been done to them. 
V'ou can see for yourself what it’s done for Purkis 
himself, and I can speak from my own knowl- 
edge as to how it has affected his family, for I 
chanced to go there the other day and have a 
chat with them. They’re always at the meetings 
of the circle, and you see how well they behave 
and how deeply they are interested in the 
lessons ; now I say that’s one of the strangest 
and most satisfactory changes that has ever 
taken place in any family in this town, and we 
ought to feel encouraged by it to go farther and 


148 


The CJiautauquans. 


keep on going so long as there is any family 
like it to be found and to be influenced ; for my 
part, so far as the money goes it sha’n’t be 
allowed to stand in the way ; you find the 
people and work on them ; Fll supply the money 
so long as there is any real promise in them. 
Purkis hasn’t cost me any money ; come to think 
of it, he owes me a little bit, but he is working 
fairly now, and I’m not paying him a bit too 
much ; I have been pluming myself a great deal 
upon the amount of good I have been doing 
that family, but really, I don’t see that I have 
been doing anything at all, except what I have 
been paid for pretty thoroughly, so that I’m not 
out of pocket a single cent, and all that I meant 
to spend on him I can just as well apply to 
somebody else. I can’t catch hold of any one, 
however, unless they come into this store, for 
I never dare to be out of it from early morning 
until late night ; I’ve been trying to devise 
some extra work so that I could get Purkis to 
invite some one of the fellows up to help him, 
and get a chance to talk with them in that way ; 
I don’t doubt yet that I’ll succeed at it. Now, 
if I were in Broad’s place, and had a great big 


The Purkis Crowd, 


149 


foundry, and had to hire a lot of men, and had 
plenty of money in my pocket, there is no know- 
ing what an amount of good I might do ; I might 
not have to spend a cent of the money after all, 
either, risking a little in the first place, but it 
might all come back to me just the same as it 
has done in this case.” 

So saying, the postmaster looked critically at 
the iron-founder, who finally met his gaze, and 
said : 

“ Oh, well, I '11 make a little rough out-door 
work for some of them for a little while, if there 
IS anything to be made out of it, and if anybody 
else will find them for me.” 

“ I’ll make that my share of the business,” said 
the minister. 

“ It will be quite an amount of vineyard labor, 
too,” said the postmaster, “ he'll find the souls 
that need saving, and let Broad do the work ; I 
would really like to see Broad playing mission- 
ary ; he’s just the sort of fellow that I think is 
naturally cut out for that sort of business, but 
somehow money and missionary don’t seem to 
go well together.” 

“ You’re unusually complimentary to-night, 


1 50 The Chautauquans, 

upon my word,” said the iron-founder, “ but I 
suppose I shall have to stand it. But why 
shouldn’t this work be brought to the attention 
of the entire set, and make everybody take part 
in it ?” 

“ Don’t do that,” said the postmaster, “ unless 
you want to spoil everything ; people of the 
circle are doing well enough, so far as the read- 
ing goes, but there isn’t one in ten of them that 
know how to handle individuals whom they 
don’t think quite as good as themselves, without 
doing more harm than good. I don’t know why it 
is that there are so many Pharisees in the church 
of the present day, and out of the church, too, as 
to that. That commoner class will stand a good 
deal of condescension and bullying from a man 
like Broad, here ; they know it is his natural 
manner, but when it comes to stupid and affected 
fellow-citizens who turn upon them with the air 
of conferring a very great benefit, and of also 
being unusually good to speak to them at all, 
they get very angry, and I don’t blame them ; 
the women are no better than the men in that 
respect, either.” 

“ And yet,” said Broad, only a little while ago 


The Purkis Crowd, 


151 


you were saying that we’d have to have our 
wives and daughters look after these people, or 
at least, after their families.” 

“Yes, but I didn’t say everybody’s wives and 
daughters ; people have got to be picked out for 
the work that they are going to do. I have 
known one women, who received a call from 
herself to do home missionary work, do more 
mischief, do more work for Satan in the course 
of one single visit, than everybody else could 
undo in the next year.” 

“ Hold on. Brown !” said the manufacturer, 
“if you’re going to talk that way, we’ll all 
think you need to get married again, so as to 
brush up your respect for the sex.” 

“ I respect the sex quite as much as any other 
man, and I know what I’m talking about; work 
in those people’s families could be done by 
women of tact ; there aren’t very many of them, 
neither here nor anywhere else. I should like 
to collect them carefully and have a good sen- 
sible, straightforward talk with them ; and then, 
perhaps, some good would come of it.” 

It was finally agreed between the three men 
that they should meet two or three of the more 


152 


The Chautauquans, 


finished women, who were members of the circle, 
and endeavor to persuade them to work upon 
the families of some of the Purkis crowd. As 
the trio separated, however, Broad muttered, 
loud enough for the others to hear : 

“ I never had the slightest idea, when this 
thing began, that there was going to be so 
much to it. If I had, I don’t believe I’d have 
touched it with a ten-foot pole.” 

“ But you’re not going to back out of it now,” 
said the postmaster, “ not unless you are more 
of a coward than I ever thought you’d be.” 

“ Now, see here. Hen Brown, it isn’t necessary 
to do any of that sort of talking to keep me up 
to the mark. I’m into this thing just as deep as 
you are; got it just as much at heart, even if I 
do grumble about it a good deal, but I say again 
that I never imagined that there was anything 
like so much to it. It means the regeneration of 


the whole town.” 



CHAPTER X. 

PICKING UP. 

Before the winter was over those members of 
the Brinston Circle who had persevered in their 
reading, discovered to their entire satisfaction 
that the mental exercise was worth all it cost; 
they certainly had something new to think of 
and talk about, not only with each other, but in 
their homes, and they could not deny that they 
enjoyed it, although it required work and appli- 
cation. 

The oddest and most unexpected effect was 
noticeable among the half-grown children — boys 
and girls not old enough to associate with young 
men and women, and who had at first been 
feared as probable gossipers about the failings 
of their parents and other elders. Many of 
these youngsters were still at school, and appar- 
ently had already as much study as they could 

[153] 


154 


The CJiautaiiquans. 


stand, yet they kept up with the class, listened 
gravely, and asked intelligent questions. Frank 
Dawn expressed the sentiments of this element 
when he said, at an informal meeting of the 
Junior Wheelmen, of which he was a member : 

“ It’s a great comfort to have a fellow’s father 
and mother in the same class with him, and find 
that he can keep up with them, and find that 
they sometimes have to ask him questions. It 
makes him feel like a man, and yet don’t give 
him a chance to feel conceited.” 

And two or three other Junior Wheelmen 
responded, feelingly : 

“ You bet it does.” 

Other people, too, began to tell one another 
that the members of the Chautauqua Circle 
seemed to be having a real good time. The 
people of the village always knew when the 
meeting had taken place, for those who chanced 
to be out calling, or going to or returning from 
any other meeting in the town, were sure to 
meet little groups going toward their respective 
homes laughing or in animated conversation, 
and apparently having as good a time as if they 
were on their way home from a party. After 


Picking Up, 


155 


saying to one another that those Chautauquans 
seemed to have a real good time, the observers 
began to talk about it in a half-envious way to 
the members themselves, and these in turn 
informed one another of what had been said to 
them ; it was then unanimously agreed that the 
time had come to make a new effort and see 
whether the numerical strength of the circle 
might not be enlarged. 

The plan worked far better than had been 
expected ; social gatherings are not especially 
numerous in any village of two or three thou- 
sand people, and some men and women, not all 
young, were willing to endure the routine of 
reading for the sake of the pleasant company 
in which it placed them once a week. 

As the circle enlarged, the older members be- 
gan to feel their responsibilities, and the younger 
ones to be quite sensitive as to the requirements 
of the course. The circle listened to no long 
addresses or essays, but questions were freely 
asked on the readings for the week, or whatever 
time had elapsed since the last meeting ; and the 
younger members, particularly those who had 
already had some educational advantages, so 


The Chautauquans . 


156 


disliked to be obliged to say, “ 1 don’t know,” 
that they began parallel reading far in advance 
of the demands of the system. 

Among those who unwillingly took this extra 
labor upon themselves, was Joe Warren. In the 
solitude of his chamber he looked very much 
aggrieved and did a great deal of muttering ; 
but he had noticed that the Brown boys seemed 
able to answer questions on almost all subjects, 
and that Miss Dawn seemed greatly interested 
in both of them. To be “ cut out,” as he 
expressed it, by either of those boys, would be 
too humiliating to think of. He always had 
liked the Brown boys until that Chautauqua 
Circle was formed ; indeed the older, Harry, had 
been one of his most intimate friends from boy. 
hood, and had somehow, although not a college 
graduate, attained an amount of information that 
made Joe Warren unable to instruct him in any- 
thing, apparently, except the dead languages, 
and in those Joe did not seem desirous of airing 
such knowledge as he had. He had always 
wished Harry Brown well ; but now, when he 
saw Miss Dawn’s gaze rest upon that young 
man’s face, which Joe couldn’t deny was quite 


Picking Up. 


157 


manly and intelligent, he found himself wishing 
that some people hadn’t such a provoking fac- 
ulty for learning a great deal in spite of lacking 
advantages. At first he was so provoked, and 
his pride was so mortified at finding Harry’s 
general intelligence superior to his own, that he 
thought seriously of leaving the circle for the 
sake of protecting his own reputation ; but the 
very next evening Miss Dawn chanced to come 
unattended to the meeting, her father and her 
mother being otherwise engaged, and Harry 
Brown had the impudence to offer to see her 
home. Not only that, but his offer was accepted 
with every appearance of gratification ; so Joe 
withdrew his mental resignation at once. 

What astonished the older members most was 
the quality of the newer recruits. Each of the 
original members had endeavored to influence 
his or her own set, but in spite of them all, the 
greater number of recruits came from a class 
in which none of the originators had a place ; 
they were quiet, inconspicuous members of the 
community, people who seldom caused them- 
selves to be seen or heard anywhere, yet most of 
whom were noted for owning the houses in which 


158 


The Chautaiiquans. 


they lived, and managing their affairs so as to 
command the respect of every one. The Broad 
girls pronounced them a set of uninteresting 
plodders ; but their father remarked that out of 
that very plodding set usually came the people 
who went farthest and highest in this world ; and 
the young women were unable to deny it. The 
few fashionable people who had joined the circle 
for the sake of exerting what they regarded as 
their influence, began to feel themselves surpassed 
in intelligence by others whom they had been in 
the habit of looking down upon, and the infor- 
mation, though it did not please them at all, had 
in the end quite a beneficial effect. It not only 
lessened the conceit of some, but it gave that 
class a new and accurate estimate of people who 
differed from them only in respect of money and 
outward appearance ; frequently in appearance 
alone. Mr. Broad, who couldn’t have looked at 
a saint more than an instant without trying to 
estimate its probable bank account, told his 
daughters that some of those quiet mechanics 
and shopkeepers could buy out two or three of 
their assuming neighbors. It must be admitted 
however, in justice to the self-satisfied class, that 


Picking Up. 


159 


they were not slow in recognizing the wit and 
intelligence of those whom hitherto they had 
scarcely known except by sight, and new acquaint- 
ances were formed, gradually at first, and with 
extreme care and hesitation, which were so pleas- 
ing that those who profited by them declared 
themselves provoked with themselves for not 
having known their neighbors sooner. Even 
Mr. Broad, who had prided himself on having 
accurately “ sized up every man in his own 
employ, admitted to himself that some of his 
commonest looking and quietest workmen knew 
a great deal more on some subjects than he did. 

When it was discovered that Miss Dawn, the 
Misses Broad, Joe Warren and two or three of 
the other young men of lei.sure about the town, 
did not forego any of the social festivities of 
autumn and winter for the sake of their new 
studies, youthful and fashionable criticism of the 
reading circle broke down entirely. The young 
men had been most suspicious of the influence 
of the circle. Like most other young men, they 
had the stupid idea that education makes young 
women uninteresting ; but they were obliged to 
admit to one another that if any change had been 


i6o 


T'Jie Chatitauquans. 


worked by the Chautauqua idea, it was for the 
better, for certainly the young women who had 
been favorites on any account but their looks 
seemed brighter this winter than ever before ; 
indeed, their vivacity was such as to put a few 
young men under the impression that there must 
be some especially inspiriting influence in the 
Chautauqua reading ; so these fellows who had 
been despaired of for some time by proselyting 
members, joined the circle, and began to read 
industriously to make up for lost time. 

Another effect of the reading course was 
brought to general attention by Postmaster 
Brown, who, one day, informed the minister 
that there had been quite a change in the usual 
winter demand for light literature, of which his 
store was the principal depot ; he had sold as 
many novels as usual, but the quality demanded 
was higher, and he had been surprised by orders 
for a few books of solid nature. The demand 
for a better class of periodicals, he said, was 
larger than before in the town, and many high- 
class magazines were purchased by people who 
did not at the same time abandon such lighter 
literature as they always had been reading. 


JVIK. BROAU AT THE BACK OF THE AUDITORIUM.— )iS’ee Page 255 









Picking Up, 


i6i 


Heart's Delight, the weekly paper in fine print 
made up entirely of trashy fiction in paragraphs 
of two or three lines, to which feeling allusion 
had been made in the Purkis family, was still 
largely purchased, but the postmaster was 
astonished once in a while, by having one of the 
purchasers ask questions in a somewhat shame- 
faced way about periodicals of higher order. 

One of the first subscribers which Heart's 
Delight lost was Miss Kate Broad. She had 
long declared that the paper contained nothing 
but nonsense, yet she insisted that it was harm- 
less nonsense, and she admitted — solely to her- 
self — that nowhere else could she find love 
stories of exactly the order which she enjoyed. 
In the tales — all of them love tales, of course — 
which that enterprising paper published, all the 
lovers were extremely ardent, all maidens were 
gloriously beautiful, the language was extremely 
exuberant and the action rapid ; and as Miss 
Broad herself, though quite intelligent, had her 
father’s impetuous nature and no sufficient out- 
let for it, idle imaginings occupied most of her 
time,- and she found herself largely in sympa- 
thy with the characters in stories of this class. 


i 62 


The Chautauquans, 


even though she laughed at some of them 
when the tale was ended. The very quarrels 
of the lovers in the Heart's Delight delighted 
Miss Broad ; she could see how she would 
quarrel in just such a way if she had just 
such a lover as the hero of the tale, although he 
might be the splendidest fellow in the world, 
as he always was — as long as the story lasted. 

One day Miss Broad went shopping just after 
reading the first installment of a highly exciting 
story which appeared in her favorite paper. 
As Miss Broad entered one of the village stores, 
Harry Brown came in and passed her going 
toward the desk of the proprietor. Miss Broad 
chanced to see in his hand a copy of her pet 
paper ! The shop was quite full of customers, so 
Miss Broad had to wait ; the proprietor was out, 
so Harry Brown had to wait. The young man 
seated himself in a chair near the desk, and appar- 
ently for lack of anything else to do, began to 
glance over the new story ; Miss Broad, for lack of 
something better to do, glanced at him occasion, 
ally; he sat under a skylight through which the 
snu shone at an angle that made every change of 
countenance distinctly visible. There was noth- 


Picking Up, 


163 


ing wrong in Miss Broad looking at the jounsr 
man ; indeed, she soon informed herself that it 
was quite right that she should stare at him, as 
long as she herself was unobserved, for she was 
learning for the first time how rapidly the 
human countenance could change, and how many 
emotions it could reflect in a short time. Evi- 
dently Harry Brown was reading the story with 
more curiosity than interest, and Miss Broad was 
inclined to feel personally aggrieved, because his 
looks frequently expressed contempt and amuse- 
ment ; smiles, quizzical expressions, apparent imi- 
tations of some of the characters, followed one 
another rapidly over his face, until Miss Broad 
forgot her indignation in her wonder that the 
human face could be so expressive. Indeed, as 
she never had noticed it in any one else, she 
jumped to the conclusion that Master Harry 
Brown had a remarkable countenance of his own. 
It was very strange that she never had noticed it 
before, although, now that the subject had been 
brought to her attention, she did remember that 
at school he had the most intelligent countenance 
in his class ; she one day heard the teacher say 
so. 


164 


The Chaiitauquans. 


“ Finally, Harry Brown seemed to reach the 
end of the tale, for he dropped the paper on his 
knee, threw back his head and indulged in a fit 
of merriment, which, though silent, was pro- 
longed and earnest. What could he have found 
in that paper that was so funny? Was it possi- 
ble that all the strong scenes, wild love-making 
and romantic conversation at the meeting of the 
hero and heroine over which she — Kate Brown 
— had lingered with delight only an hour or two 
before, seemed only amusing to this yonng man ? 

Harry Brown seemed suddenly to remember 
that he had come on business, and as he arose 
from his chair Miss Broad quickly turned her 
head away. She had heard him ask one of the 
clerks when the proprietor would return, and 
heard the reply that he was expected every 
moment. Then the young man seated himself once 
more, picked up the paper and seemed to be 
staring at it without reading at all ; he appeared 
to have gone into a brown study. What could 
there be in that story to compel so much of his 
attention ? She would find out. There was no 
possible reason why she should not speak to him, 
for although they seldom met socially, were they 


Pickmg Up. 


165 

not members of the same church and of the 
Chautauqua Circle besides? She timed her pur- 
chases carefully, watching for the appearance of 
the proprietor ; so, as Harry Brown finished his 
business and started to leave the store, he was 
stopped by a pleasant greeting from Miss Broad, 
who had in the meantime devised a question 
entirely proper with which to begin the conver- 
sation. They left the store together, and 
when barely upon the sidewalk the girl said : 

“ You seem greatly interested in light litera- 
ture, Mr. Brown, judging by the attention you 
paid to that new story in Heart's Delight." 

“ Bless me !” exclaimed the young man. 
“ Have I been detected at my very first attempt 
of that kind ? I earnestly assure you that I 
never before looked into that paper.” 

“ What do you think of that sort of story T 

“Think!” exclaimed Harry. Then he was 
silent for a moment, wrinkling his brows as if 
wondering exactly what he did think. Finally 
he replied : 

“ Well, I don’t know that I am competent to 
judge such literature, for I have never yet been 
in love ; but if lovers talk and act like the people 


The C hautauquans. 


1 66 


in that story, I must say that the tender passion 
makes people about as silly as a lot of monkeys. 
I can’t advise you to read it, even through curi- 
osity, though there is nothing harmful about it 
except to those who take it in earnest ; but I 
must say that I know a fair number of lovers — 
people who have loved so long that they have 
married and still are lovers; I’ve seen them 
together and heard a great deal of their con- 
versation often, but never by any possibility 
could they be convicted of such stuff as is talked 
all through those columns.” 

“ It must be a very curious story,” said Miss 
Broad, faintly. 

‘‘No; not even curious. I beg you not to 
take the pains to read it, for there is nothing 
at all to it but gush and nonsense. It is laugh- 
able only on account of its extreme unreality, 
but I can’t help wondering what can be the con- 
dition of mind of people who are brought 
up on that sort of mental food. That paper has 
an immense circulation in this town ; I have seen 
it in a great many hands. Of course, it never 
reaches families of intelligence like yours, but it 


Picking Up, 


167 


must give very unreal ideas of life to people 
who are in need of education in that respect.” 

“ How ? Will you give me an idea of how it is 
unreal ?” 

“ Why, that would be rather hard to do. The 
hero and the heroine are supposed by the writer 
to be in the condition I have heard described as 
‘ too full for utterance,’ and yet haven’t sense 
enough to hold their tongues. Their talk is of 
the wildest, most high-flown, unreal nature, such 
as once in a while you hear in a play, but would 
be astonished beyond measure to hear in real 
life ; certainly it can’t be that real lovers talk 
back in that way. Though I haven’t any expe- 
rience with the tender sentiment, I’ve always 
been of the impression that the fuller one’s heart 
was of anything the easier it was understood 
without a great deal of conversation by any one 
who loved that person. Heart ought to read 
heart where there is any true affection, instead 
of demanding a whole dictionary full of strong 
expression* and long sentences. I’m sure that 
if ever I should fall in love, the lady who may 
kindly honor me with her confidence, won’t want 
to hear my tongue going all the time in speeches 


i68 The ChatUauquans. 

such as actors make in third-class plays. Cer- 
tainly, sympathy and congeniality ought to 
amount to something to people in that delight- 
ful condition, but — excuse me — I — Fm not 
authority on the subject. I didn’t mean to run on 
about it as 1 have; you must blame yourself for 
it, please ; you began the subject about the 
story. I must turn down here. Good-day.” 

And lifting his hat, Harry Brown took his 
leave with a bow and a pleasant smile, while Miss 
Broad walked homeward with a very quick 
step, a blush on her face and a great wonder, 
which she kept entirely to herself, that she never 
before had realized what a fine fellow Harry 
Brown really was. 

Then she went to her room, opened a drawer, 
took out the copy of Heart's Delight, with its 
microscopic type, tore it into twenty pieces, 
threw it into the grate, saw it burn, and then 
turned away and muttered to herself : 

“ That’s the last — the very last !” 



CHAPTER XI. 

AN UNEXPECTED DISTURBANCE. 

Harry Brown went back to his father’s office 
in a frame of mind which he had not counted 
upon. He had known the Broad girls only at 
school ; even there he had not been well 
acquainted with them, though he had a general 
impression that they differed from most girls in 
having quick wits and also as being very set in 
their ways, a quality for which he never men- 
tally held them to account, for their father was 
known as one of the most obstinate men in the 
township. He had frequently admired Kate 
Broad for her strong face, but ever since he had 
left school he had been too busy with his father’s 
affairs and his own to have any time for senti- 
mental imaginings about girls of any sort. 

It was impossible, however, for him to walk 

[169] 


1 70 The Chatitauquaiis. 

beside any young woman without looking at her 
earnestly as well as respectfully ; and although 
the conversation between him and Kate Broad, 
after the store was left, had been very short, he 
had opportunity to notice that on that particu- 
lar day Miss Broad had a fine complexion and 
an expressive eye. They had talked about love, 
a subject on which he had few ideas which 
were not entirely conventional and proper. It 
appeared to him that she seemed greatly inter- 
ested in the general subject, and he wondered 
with whom she might already be in love. 

None of these wonderings, however, disturbed 
the flow of his business faculties. He reported 
to his father the result of his interview with the 
dry goods dealer, and discussed the figures which 
had been offered by city dealers. When the 
subject was exhausted, he remarked in a casual 
manner ; 

“ Father, that oldest daughter of Broad’s 
seems to be a good deal of a woman.” 

“Yes,” drawled the old man, looking sidewise 
at his son. 

“ I got into an odd talk with her coming out 
of the store,” continued the youth. “ It was 


An Ufiexpected Disturbance. 


171 


about the first chapters of a silly story in three- 
line paragraphs, coming out in that paper, 
Heart's Delight^ that I’ve often sa^d you ought to 
be ashamed to sell in the office here.” 

“ Yes, I remember you’ve been down on it, and 
that I’ve told you that it was better than noth- 
ing for people who wouldn’t read anything 
better.” 

Oh, yes. Well, 1 don’t think likes it.” 

“ I should like to know why not,” said the old 
man. She gets it every week.” 

“ Oh, say ! There must be some mistake 
about that.” 

“ No mistake at all ; always comes in for it ; 
one of the first persons to call for it, too, when 
the edition arrives.” 

The young man looked somewhat astonished 
and disappointed as he said : 

“ Then I suspect I’ve hurt her feelings. She 
asked me what I thought of it ; I happened to 
pick up a copy while 1 was in the store.” 

“ Well?” 

“ I expressed my mind, of course — and said 
about what I said to you.” 

‘‘You young idiot,” said the old man, “you 


172 The ChaiUaiiqiLaiis. 

don’t mean to -say you told the girl that you 
thought anybody that read that sort of paper 
must be a pretty common character? If you 
did — gracious ! — I don’t know what will come of 
the Broad family’s trade at this store.” 

“ Oh, nonsense, father. I’m not such a fool 
as that. I’m glad I’m not, if what you say is 
true, as, of course, it is. But I never imagined 
for an instant she’d read that sort of nonsense ; 
so I expressed my mind pretty freely.” 

Well, if you did, I guess it doesn’t matter to 
you hereafter what sort of a girl she is — whether 
she’s smart or foolish.” Then the postmaster 
eyed his son narrowly, while the young man 
looked somewhat astonished and disturbed, 
changed the subject, and made haste to leave 
the store. 

Change of face, however, did not change the 
subject of his thoughts. Was it possible that 
he had been guilty of trampling upon some of 
Miss Broad’s literary tastes, if literary they 
could be called? It really seemed impossible 
that a girl of her apparent strength of character 
should read the paper that he had been making fun 
of for several years — in fact, ever since he had been 


An Unexpected Disturbance, 173 

old enough to be trusted in his father’s store and 
had looked over at leisure all the periodicals 
that came in. What could there be in the non- 
sense in that ridiculous paper, Heart's Delight, 
that could attract a girl of Miss Broad’s birth, 
character and education? The longer he 
thought of it, the less possible seemed any solu- 
tion. He admitted to himself that he knew very 
little about love ; all of his knowledge and expe- 
rience on the subject had come through observa- 
tion before the death of his mother, who had 
always been her husband’s idol, and who had 
worshiped her husband in return. It had 
always seemed to Harry Brown that love was, 
next to religion, the noblest sentiment on the 
face of the earth ; but, after what he had seen 
of its practical workings, many love stories 
seemed to him inexpressibly silly. Could it be 
that Miss Broad admired the style of the heroes 
peculiar to Heart's Delight, or that she thought 
the heroines were womanly ideals? It didn’t 
seem possible. 

The youth went back to the farm, to attend to 
the business at hand there, and although this 
was the selling of a horse, which to a young 


174 


The Chautattqua7is , 


man seems about the most important transac- 
tion possible, he could not rid his mind of ihe 
subject with which he had come to town. 
Finally, he determined that it was the intensity 
of the sentiment in the tales that had attracted 
Kate Broad ; all of the Broads were earnest, as 
was natural with such a father. 

Slowly, light began to dawn upon his mind. 
He was quite willing to admit that intensity was 
an admirable human quality, especially when it 
passed from the domain of sentiment into that of 
action. Probably Miss Broad had been inter- 
ested in that sentimental nonsense, the intensity 
of expression of heroes and heroines, because 
there was so little that was unusual in her own 
daily life. The more he thought of her, the 
more natural it seemed to him that, after all, 
Heart's Delight was an excellent means of 
overflow for superfluous energy and spirit, but 
what a shame that a girl of her many admirable 
qualities should be compelled to descend to 
such contemptible means. 

As he thought farther on the matter, he 
wished most earnestly that some one, some real 
fine fellow, might come along, descern the many 


An Unexpected Distnrbance. 


175 


admirable traits of Kate Broad, marry her, and 
giv^e her a life that would enable her to use all 
of her mental qualities to the best adventage. 
He mentally looked about the town and 
wondered who the man might be, but found 
himself greatly embarrassed in endavoring to 
make choice. There was Joe Warren, for 
instance ; Joe was a good fellow, but all the 
boys had sized him up as a man who loved his 
ease better than anything else ; as for the other 
young fellows, there didn’t seem anything in 
particular to them. What was a girl of that 
sort to do, what was she to come to, if she was 
to remain forever in a little place like Brings- 
ton ? 

The more he thought over her case the worse 
he worried, until finally the sense of the ludi- 
crous come to his relief and informed him that 
really he wasn’t responsible for the young lady’s 
welfare— that she had a father, and a very clear 
head of her own beside, that probably Provi- 
dence had something to say and do in the 
arrangement of people’s affairs in the world, and 
that he, Harry Brown, was making a donkey of 
himself, by concerning his mind with things 


176 The Chautauquans. 

that were none of his business. With this 
decision he endeavored to take leave of the 
subject and devote his mind anew to his own 
affairs, which, like tnose of most young farmers 
of the day and of any other day, were quite 
pressing. 

But Miss Broad did not go out of his mind in 
any such manner; no matter how determinedly 
he put himself to think about other subjects, that 
girl’s eye and that girl’s complexion came back 
to him, and the longer they remained the more 
interested he found himself. Beside there was 
her sister Eunice. Who in the whole town was 
ever likely to marry her ? — that is, who that is 
worthy of her ? Harry had for years imagined 
that Eunice was a more interesting person than 
her sister ; there had come a decided change of 
opinion to-day, but still Eunice was a charming 
girl — bright, quickwitted, decided, determined 
in manner, and would deserve a better husband, 
if she intended ever to marry, than any young 
man Harry could think for the time, unless, it 
might be his own brother. 

When night came, and the affairs were ended 
and the two brothers finished their supper and 


An Unexpected Disturbance. 


177 


sat down to read and chat, as was their custom, 
Harry remarked : 

“ Say, Bub, that young sister of Kate Broad is 
a good deal of a girl, isn’t she ?” 

“ Indeed she is,” said the younger brother ; “ I 
have thought so for a long time.” 

“ Oh, you have, eh ? Well, what do you think 
of her elder sister ? 

“ Oh, she’s a stunner ! Awfully smart, got a 
tremendous will of her own, too, I’ll bet ; just 
like her father.” 

“Well, why shouldn’t she have, I should like 
to know ?” Harry asked. “ Whose will do you 
expect a girl to. have 1 Somebody’s else ?” 

The younger brother looked up in astonish- 
ment. 

“ I don’t see,” said Harry, getting up and pac- 
ing the floor, “ why a girl shouldn’t have a will 
of her own? How is she supposed to get along 
in the world if she hasn’t ? Is she supposed to 
be nothing at all except a little bit of an insigni- 
ficant tool of her father and mother, and then 
just marry and promptly adopt the will of some- 
body else? 1 don’t think that’s womanly, do 
you ? Was our mother that way ?” 


178 


The Chautauquans, 


“No; certainly not.” 

“ Indeed, she wasn’t ; she never quarreled 
with father in the world, but she had her own 
opinions and he respected her for them, and 
respected them, too.” 

“Well, all that’s true, Harry,” said the 
younger brother, “ but really I don’t see why 
you should get so excited about it. What’s the 
matter with you, anyway ? I begin to think I 
have said something very unkind about the 
Broad girls.” 

“ Nothing, nothing,” said Harry, suddenly 
changing his manner and acting embarrassed. 

“ It is no use saying that after what you’ve 
been saying. Blurt it out, old fellow ; I’m your 
only brother, you know ; you can’t get another 
if you try.” 

“ Why, there is really nothing. Bub ; I hap- 
pened to have a chat with Miss Kate Broad to- 
day — that’s all, and I suppose she is on my 
mind.” 

“ Oh, she is, eh? Well, just let me tell you 
she is a good deal to be on anybody’s mind ; 
she’s her father all over again, and there is a 


An U 7 texpected Disturbance, 179 


good deal else to her that must have come from 
a pretty nice mother, I think." 

“ Oh ! Where did you learn so much about 
her, I should like to know ?" 

‘‘ Great Scott ! Harry, what is the matter 
with you ?’’ said the younger brother. “ I can’t 
mention that girl but what you snap me up in 
some way. Any fellow would think you were 
in love with her, to see your style." 

The elder brother’s face twitched in several 
ways to which it was not accustomed, the 
younger brother meanwhile eying it curiously, 
and finally saying : 

“ Unload your mind now, old fellow ; there’s 
something on it. You know you and I are 
friends — the best friends each other’s got except 
dad. What’s it all about? Don’t be afraid ; I’ll 
promise not to laugh at anything you say, no 
matter what it is." 

Why, really. Bub," said Harry, beginning 
again to pace the floor and looking very 
thoughtful, “I’ve nothing in particular to tell. 
I have told you about all there is to it. I — She 
and I happened to have a chat to-day coming 
away from the store, and she has rather been on 


The ChatUauquans, 


1 8o 


my mind since ; and, of course, the}^ are old 
acquaintances of ours. We’re not friends ; we 
don’t go to their house to any extent ; they never 
come to ours, but — we’re living in the same 
town, we’re in the same circle of the C. L. S. C. 
— and they being rather superior people any- 
how — why, of course, I got to thinking about 
her. Well, I couldn’t help thinking.” 

“Couldn’t eh? I suppose not. Wonder if 
you can stand a bit of advice ? This is all there 
is to it: If you go on thinking that way fora 
day or two the best thing you can do is to make 
up to that girl.” 

“ Oh, pshaw !” said Harry. 

“ If you need any help, come for me. I’ll 
make up to her sister. Then things will have 
to come to the point, one way or the other, eh ?” 

A great light seemed to dawn on Harry, and 
he exclaimed : 

“ Bub, you’re a sly dog ! — and a genius.” 



CHAPTER XII. 

BOYS AND GIRLS. 

Frank Dawn was a thorough boy, which 
means he was by turns studious, vacant-minded, 
thoughtful, tormenting, sympathetic, careless, 
obliging, obstinate, affectionate, industrious, 
lazy, neglectful, enthusiastic, apathetic, self- 
sacrificing and selfish. There were times when 
his parents thought he was much the finest boy 
ever born at Brinston or anywhere else ; there 
were other times when those estimable parents 
lay awake an hour or two later than usual and 
wondered to which of their ancestors could be 
attributed the origin of some of the exasperating 
faults which unexpectedly came to the surface 
of their only son’s character. The wisest of 
parents, those with the best memories, too, have 
a faculty for forgetting the peculiarities of their 
own growing period. Frank had reached the 

[i8i] 


i 82 


The Chautauquans. 


beginning of the critical age, a period which 
comes provokingly early in smart boys, and in 
which they know more, in their own estimation, 
than their parents have ever learned or ever can. 
The consequence was an assumption of superior- 
ity which at first was amusing enough to laugh 
at, but which afterward made him annoying at 
home and almost insufferable in other society. 

I don’t know what to do with that boy,” 
said his father one evening after a wordy con- 
test, which had ended in a drawn battle, the 
younger contestant retiring to his room with a 
great show of indignation and much unneces- 
sary slamming of doors. “ I don’t like to spoil 
his spirit by making him see how little he knows, 
but he mustn’t be allowed to show contempt 
for the opinions of his parents. I’ve a great 
mind to send him to sea or put him at a trade, 
where he will learn how to obey orders without 
question, or be obliged to suffer for his impu- 
dence.” 

“ Oh, husband !” exclaimed the boy’s mother, 
who, though quite as indignant as the father 
with the fault alluded to, suddenly remembered 
that after all Frank was her only substitute for a 


Boys a 7 id Girls. 183 

baby. “ Don’t do anything of the kind. If he 
is to be disciplined without being spoiled, the 
only person who can do it must be some one 
who loves him. It must be done by you or 
me.” 

‘‘Well, my dear,” said the husband, “if I 
could be hard-hearted enough, I would turn the 
job over to you, for I confess that I am at my 
wits’ end.” 

“ Are you quite sure about that ? Are you 
sure that you have really begun to use your 
wits about him ?” 

“ What do you mean by that, my dear?” asked 
the husband, after a long stare. 

“ Why, you keep a close eye upon him in a 
great many ways, but you don’t seem to realize 
that Frank is beginning to be a man, and needs 
some manly companionship.” 

“ I must say I like that,” was the reply, in a 
tone which showed that the speaker meant the 
reverse of what he said. “ If any man alive 
gives more of his time to his children than I, tell 
me where I can find him, so that I may take 
some lessons. There’s scarcely a thing which 
that young scamp wants that I don’t buy for 


The ChautatLquans. 


184 

him ; I often neglect my own affairs to answer 
some of his questions that aren’t of any import- 
ance. I’m so anxious that he shall feel always 
free to come to me about any of his affairs, that 
I sometimes am rude to other people, to‘ the 
extent of ignoring their questions and answering 
his instead, when he has the bad manners to 
interrupt.” 

“ That’s very true, but both of us stop, I think, 
at just that kind of attention. There’s more 
affectionate indulgence than real intention in it. 
Suppose that hereafter we make a change, and 
treat him more like a man and less like a 
child ?” 

“ It will make him insufferable. He’s con- 
ceited enough already.” 

“ Then put more responsibilities upon him. 
That is the way you and I became man and 
woman, you know. Before I was married 1 
knew exactly how my sisters would keep house 
and take care of their children, but all that non- 
sense went out of my head as soon as I had such 
duties of my own ; the longer 1 worked, the less 
I seemed to know, and, if I live to be twenty 


Boys and Girls. 


185 

years older, I sha'n’t dare to offer a word of 
advice to any one.” 

-m. What do you propose as first step?” 

“ Make Frank your confident about some of 
your affairs. Make him — ” 

“ He’d at once insist upon my taking instruc- 
tions from him. You don’t seem to realize the 
dimensions of that boy’s confidence in himself, 
and his impatience of any opinions which had not 
the honor of originating in his very big head.” 

“ Oh, don’t I ? Who sees most of him ? Where 
does he spend most of his daylight hours out of 
school — at your office, or at home? Who is 
always nearest at hand for him to grumble to or 
to disagree with ? Who has most occasion to 
give him orders and listen to his reasons for 
doing things in any way but the one I lay out 
for him ?” 

“ I’m a brute !” meekly replied the husband. 
“ ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ — the old story. 1 
beg your pardon, and again I acknowledge that 
I’m a brute and a — ” 

“ That’s sufficient,” said Mrs. Dawn, first lay- 
ing her hand on her husband’s lips and taking it 
back with a kiss in it. “ I do all I can to train 


t86 


The ChautauqtianS. 


him, and I dearly love to have him with me and 
try to interest him in my affairs ; but I am a 
woman aud he is a boy. He needs more of a 
man’s influence — more of the example and sym- 
pathy of some one of his own sex.” 

“ Would you have me take him out of school 
and take him to the office with me ?” 

Not at all. I think, though, that it is time he 
should know something more about your own 
ways and work and worries than he learns from 
such conversation as we chance to have at home 
on such subjects. Tell him enough about the 
uncertainties and demands of business to let him 
understand that you are a very busy man, and 
are charged with many responsibilities by men 
whom he probably thinks are abler than you ; 
they have more money, you know, and 1 suspect 
that children are as likely as grown people to 
judge men’s brains by their pockets. You never 
bring your troubles home. I should never know 
anything of them if I hadn’t learned to read your 
face, and coax you to tell me everything. Quite 
likely Frank thinks, as many others do, that what- 
ever fortune you have is due to good luck ; 
people always think that way of those who make 


Boys and Girls. 


187 


the least fuss about what they have to do. 
Of course I know, and always have known, 
that you are far the smartest man in Brinston — ” 
“ Drop that nonsense, my dear, if you want 
me to respect your opinions of the subject in 
question. But don’t you see that whatever I 
may tell Frank will only give him something 
new in which to think himself superior to the 
individual whom he sometimes denominates ‘ the 
old man?’ ” 

No ; the subjects will be so unfamiliar that he 
will be appalled by them. The wisest people 
alive are helpless in the face of something of 
which they are ignorant. 1 am sure 1 knew 
everything — or nearly as much as Frank — when 
you married me. Don’t you remember how I 
used to give you suggestions as to how you 
ought to conduct your business so as to make 
more money ? You never laughed at me ; but 
after you had told me about some of your affairs, 
which weren’t more wonderful or complicated 
than those of other business men, I suppose, I 
was so bewildered that I haven’t had anything 
to say on the subject since, unless you asked my 
advice, which I am glad to say hasn’t been very 


88 


The Chautauquans, 


often. Frank will be the same way ; the home 
affairs with which he is very familiar, he thinks 
he knows all about, but he will be very modest 
in the face of the unknown; everybody is.’’ 

“ There’s a great deal of reason in what you 
have said, my dear,” said the husband, after 
a moment or two of thought. 

“ Indeed there is, or I shouldn’t have said it,” 
the wife replied, with a laugh. “The boy has 
been taught principles from his cradle almost, 
but we haven’t taught him enough about things 
and people. He has been growing more rapidly 
than we have realized, and his conceited and 
overbearing way comes of his not having 
enough to think about — not enough that com- 
pels him to think, instead of jumping at conclu- 
sions. We can give it to him from books; but 
it seems to me that stuffing a boy or girl with 
books alone is a makeshift of very lazy people, 
who think it relieves them of their own respon- 
sibilities. ’T wasn’t teachers and writers of 
books who promised, at that boy’s baptism, to 
bring him up in the way he should go; ’twas 
you and I,” 


Boys and Girls, 


189 


“ My dear, you ought to have studied for the 
ministry.” 

Don’t make fun of me, for I feel very much 
in earnest about this matter. So long as the boy 
was content to be tied to my apron-strings, 
which was quite a long time, bless him ! I did 
all I could for him ; but he is too big for that 
now, and your time has come. I’ve denied 
myself anything and ever3qhing, whenever he 
wanted me, and I’ve tried to make him under- 
stand everything about the house in which he 
has shown any interest ; now you do the same 
with him about the affairs of the man of the 
house, and he will get rid of this nonsense and 
become a great deal like his father. Girls grow 
with less trouble than boys because they are 
constantly with older members of their own sex 
as boys are not — not in cities and towns, at 
least.” 

“ Well,” said the nominal head of the house, 
looking curiously and admiringly at his wife, “ I 
always did say that nobody ever could imagine 
what brilliancy you would indulge in next. I 
feel as if I had been listening to the wisdom of 
the ages, and I must say that I can’t find a single 


1 90 The Chautauquans. 

fault with what you have said ; but I can’t 
understand why this is the first time I ever 
heard any of it. What has put all this into your 
mind as suddenly as if it were an inspiration ?” 

“ Tm sure I don’t know, unless it is that Chau- 
tauqua class.” 

Oh, now, my dear, be reasonable. I’m ready 
to admit that the Chautauqua course is brushing 
up our wits somewhat ; but I can’t for the life of 
me see what we have studied that could have 
given new ideas on the rearing of boys. It 
couldn’t have been , geology ; to be sure, rocks 
are hard, and so are boys’ heads sometimes ; but 
there the parallel ends. Was it — ” 

“ It was only,” interrupted Mrs. Dawn, “ that 
I have steadily noticed that throughout all the 
lessons Frank has been gaining respect for you. 
He has found himself far quicker than you with 
answers to bookish questions, and he has the 
child-faculty for committing passages to mem- 
ory and repeating them by rote ; but whenever 
some member of the class has asked questions 
which the book didn’t answer, Frank has gener- 
ally heard you give a lot of information that 
came from your general reading in other years. 


Boys and Girls. 


191 


1 wish you could seethe boy look at you at such 
times; he looks as if he wanted to ask people 
if they had ever known so smart a man as his 
father.” 

I shall look around, next time I say any- 
thing particularly smart,” said the father. 
“ ’Twould give me a new sensation to see my son 
regarding me admiringly.” 

“ You’ll find it as I say. He has it thoroughly 
in his mind by this time that you have more 
general knowledge than any man in this town. 
He will think the same of you in business when 
he has more opportunity to see you among 
men. At home he knows you principally as a 
maker of gardens and a feeder of animals and 
chickens, and a repairer of household breaks and 
as a care-taker in general. At all these things 
he thinks himself your equal — as he is — for you 
seldom have time to do anything at home except 
hurriedly, while he has plenty of time and does 
the work just as he has seen you do it.” 

“ AVell,” said Mr. Dawn, walking the floor, 
and speaking with the tone of a man talking to 
himself, “ I’ve heard a great many good 
influences attributed to this Chautauqua move- 


192 


The Chmitiuiquans, 


ment, but that it should teach boys to respect 
their fathers rather staggers me. It must be 
true, if my wife says it, but I sha’ii’t be sur- 
prised at anything I may hear next of what 
this course is doing, or has done, or can do.” 


♦ 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A STARTLED TOWN. 

While spring was just beginning to work into 
summer, and all the students of the Chautauqua 
course were doing their work fairly well, the 
entire community was startled by the statement 
which came from no one knew where, that Mrs. 
Purkis had determined to go that summer to 
Chautauqua, and attend all the meetings and 
classes that her time would allow. 

This seemed the best joke that Brinston had 
ever heard of ; everybody talked about it from 
the lowest to the highest. Mrs. Purkis had 
never been anywhere since her marriage, except 
once to a town about fifteen miles away, to work 


A Startled Tozvii. 


193 


out a fine which had been imposed upon her 
husband for fighting there. How she could go 
to Chautauqua when scarcely any other member 
of the class had yet ventured to hope to visit 
that Mecca of all good students of the course, 
passed people’s comprehension. Possibly she 
might save enough money to reach there with 
one of the cheap excursions which are continu- 
ally made during the summer time in that direc- 
tion, but how was she to support herself when 
she reached there, when several clerks, teachers 
and non-professional people in the town had 
studied the subject for a long time for their own 
sakes and had about given up the possibility of 
going. 

Like every other rumor in the town, the story 
very soon reached the post-office ; but Post- 
master Brown, instead of joining in the general 
laugh or sneer, intimated that if Mrs. Purkis 
wanted to go to Chautauqua he didn’t see who 
had a better right or to whom it would do more 
good. The place was free to all who could 
reach it and could pay their own expenses, and 
although Mrs. Purkis was wife of a man who 
hadn’t ever got along very well, he, the post- 


194 


The ChautaiLquaiis, 


master, had generally noticed that whatever she 
got she was able to pay for. 

Still, Brown himself, in his innermost soul 
was greatly puzzled by the announcement, and 
took occasion to bring up the subject the first 
time the woman came into his store. 

“ Yes, Mr. Brown,” said she, in reply to his 
question, “ Pm agoin’. I’ve made up my mind 
to it, and I’m agoin’ to see it through. The 
Lord bein’ willin’, and no sickness cornin’ in the 
family, ’pears to me I see how I can do it.” 

“You always did have a master head for 
business, Mrs. Purkis. If you only had )'our 
proper chance, you’d have been a great woman 
in a store or any other place that requires a 
head-piece.” 

“ If it was any one else who said that,” said 
the old woman, looking curiously at the post- 
master, “ I’d think he was tryin’ to make fun of 
me, but I do believe that you can remember, as 
some other folks might if they wanted to, that 
there was a time when I looked after everything 
as well as anybody else.” 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Purkis; there are plenty 
of people who remember it, and they’d be glad 


A Startled Town. 


195 


enough to tell you so if they had the proper 
chance to do it. But, talking about going up 
there, what are your plans, if I may be so bold 
as to ask?” 

“ Well, I got hold of a lot of the bright little 
papers that they print up there during the season 
— the little paper they call the Assembly Herald — 
and I see that there was always advertisements 
bein’ put in for people that know how to cook, 
or people that know how to wash. Well, now, 
if I say it as shouldn’t, I can run a cook-stove or 
a wash-tub as well as any woman livin’.” 

“ Nobody doubts that, Mrs. Purkis.” 

“ Glad to hear you say so. Well, Pm just 
goin’ to save enough money to get there ; then 
Pm goin’ to work hard. Them little papers tell 
how even the folks that works there in the hotels 
an’ the boardin’ houses gets lots of time to go 
an’ listen to some of the prayer meetin’s an’ 
lectures an’ concerts an’ things like that. Why, 
I don’t ever hear such things scarcely. It’ll feel 
like heaven to me, Mr. Brown, to be at a place 
of that kind for a little while no matter how 
hard I work by daylight.” 

Suppose you bring around some of those 


J96 


The Chautauquans. 


Assembly Heralds, Mrs. Purkis,” said the store- 
keeper, “ and let me look through them. Per- 
haps I can give you a word of advice. I 
don’t think that I ever put you up to anything 
that didn’t have some money in it in some 
way, did 1 ?” 

No indeed, you didn’t, Mr. Brown. Y'ou’ve 
been one of the best friends I ever had.” 

Pshaw! That’s nothing. Bring it in, Mrs. 
Purkis.” 

And the storekeeper started to attend to 
another customer. 

In two or three days the entire town, as well 
as the Chautauqua Circle, was almost para- 
lyzed to learn that Mrs. Purkis was going to 
Lake Chautauqua that summer to keep a 
boarding house. People asked one another 
whether she had gone out of her senses, 
but when this talk reached the post-office, Mr. 
Brown promptly informed the people that she 
not only hadn’t gone out of her senses, but 
had fully come into them, and he didn’t doubt 
that she’d make a very great success, financially 
and otherwise. 

“ Most of you folks are too young,” he said. 


A Startled ToiV7i, 


197 


“ to remember that woman in her prime, but I 
want you all to understand that when she was a 
young girl, she belonged to a family that kept 
house as nicely as anybody in this town ; 1 won’t 
except any of you. T ought to know, for I was 
a frequent visitor there; so were some other 
men in this town, who could tell the same story 
now, if you asked them about it. She talked about 
going up there as a cook or a washerwoman, 
and came and told me about it, and 1 told her 
she ought to hire a cottage and take boarders ; 
some of us people may be going there, and even 
if we don’t, there are always more people than 
can be comfortably accommodated, according to 
the local paper. Now is the chance for her to see 
a good deal, and do a good deal, make some 
money, too, and get a change ; I think she’s 
being very sensible about it, and if any of 
you wish her well and realize what it is for a per- 
son to get out of the slough of despond that she 
and her family have been in for years, on account 
of her husband’s goings on, why give her a kind 
word, instead of putting on a grin every time 
you see her. What sort of Christians are you 
folks, anyway ?’' 


198 


The Chautauquaiis. 


“ But, Mr. Brown/' some of the more curious 
ones said, “ how on earth is she to begin the 
business ? How is she to pay for anything in 
the first place ?" 

“ Well, if everybody is goinsr to ask that sort 
of question — though I really don’t see what 
business it is of theirs — 1 don’t hesitate to say 
that I’m backing her up with a certain amount 
of money. She’s going to have a house, and 
she’s going to have one that’s comfortable ; 
going to have everything in it for a good start. 
After that, if she fails, why, come and call me a 
fool, but don’t laugh at her. Have a little 
human nature about you, if you can’t have any 
of the spirit of God.” 

This speech or several others strongly resem- 
bling it were heard so often at the post-office 
within a few days, that the town was actually 
bullied into speaking respectfully of Mrs. Pur- 
kis and her new project. When the Dawns 
heard of it, Mrs. Dawn immediately engaged 
board for a month of Mrs. Purkis for herself and 
for her daughter. When the rest of the town 
heard of that, there was such a run on the new 
proprietor that she was obliged to countermand 


A Startled Tozvn. 


199 


to Postmaster Brown, who had became her bus- 
iness agent, her order for a small cottage and 
make a request instead for the largest cottage 
that could be hired as a boarding-house ; for as 
soon as it was known that the Dawns were going, 
Joe Warren suddenly discovered that his mother 
and sister would like very much to go up there, 
and he, of course, would accompany them. 
Then Mr. Broad said that if Miss Dawn and her 
mother could stand Mrs. Purkis’s cooking and 
housekeeping, he was sure his daughters could ; 
and as soon as it was learned, too, that the 
Broads were going, the Brown boys somehow 
arranged to have their farm taken care of for a 
fortnight by their hired men, and they also 
engaged board of Mrs. Purkis. A large num- 
ber of the remaining members of the C. L. S. C. 
followed. The consequence was that before 
the house was opened or even looked at, Mrs. 
Purkis, assisted by Postmaster Brown, of course, 
was able to figure up a net profit of about thirty 
dollars per week over and above all expenses ; 
a sum of money the mere contemplation of which 
put her into an ecstasy, although one of almost 
unbelief, for it seemed impossible that it could 


200 


The Chautauqiums. 


be true. From that time forward, as she toiled 
at the tub or the ironing-board, one or the other 
of her daughters was compelled to read aloud 
over and over again the programme for the 
coming season, this programme being a large 
sheet of . a number of pages, detailing the vari- 
ous schools and classes to be held, and, also, 
all the entertainments which are to be given in 
the great amphitheatre at Chautauqua. It took a 
great deal of reading to get everything distinctly 
into the minds of the family, for none of them had 
ever seen any building larger than the town-hall 
in Brinston, nor had any of them, indeed, been 
outside of their own town and seen large gather- 
ings of any kind ; so some of the conversations 
were rather amusing. 

*‘Just think, girls,” said the mother, ‘this 
amphitheatre that they have their meetings in 
holds six thousand people. Goodness gracious I” 

“ That’s just twice as many as the biggest tent 
in the circus held when they came through 
here ; that’s what the bills said,” remarked 
Florinda. 

“ Don’t go talkin' about circuses in the same 
day with Chautauqua, child,” said Mrs. Purkis, 


A Startled Town, 


201 


sharply. “An’ there’s meetin’s in it all day 
long,” she went on, beginnin’ half-past seven in 
the mornin’ an’ keepin’ on until the last one 
begins at eight o’clock at night, and nobody has 
to pay a cent to go to any of ’em. Well, I 
should think that was just a foretaste of heaven 
for them that can get there.” 

“Well, I should think folks could easily get 
too much of meetin’s,” drawled Arabella, who 
once had been a week at camp-meeting and 
failed to enjoy all the exercises. “ I s’pose there 
ain’t nothin* but lessons an’ preachin’ goin’ on all 
the time.” 

“ Nonsense, child. Read with your own eyes, 
if you haven’t heard a word of what your sister’s 
been readin’ aloud. Lectures, concerts, exhibi- 
tions, tableaus — why, goodness gracious! if it 
wasn’t about Chautauqua an’ printed right in the 
paper that comes from there. I’d think the Chau- 
tauqua folks had all got giddy and worldly.” 

“ Well, all I know is, there’s lots of preachers’ 
names been read out from them lists that Flo- 
rindy’s been readin* to us,” drawled Arabella. 

“Well, for goodness’ sake, you don’t suppose 
preachers are always solemn, do you? I know 


202 


The Chautatiquans, 


some of them just as lively and full of fun as 
anybody else ; besides, there’s lots of things in 
there that ain’t for preachers. There’s a concert 
by that company that come through here just a 
spell ago, and we went and listened outside the 
town hall winders, because we hadn’t money to 
pay for back seats ; we enjoyed it, too, — all three 
of us did. You know perfectly well, Arabella, 
that you said that it was perfectly splendid ; yes, 
and here’s a lecture, too, by that funny man, 
don’t you know, that your father told us about 
after some one gave him a ticket that he couldn’t 
use for himself. Then there’s readin’s by the 
writers of books that everybody’s heard about 
and wants to see, an’ music almost without end. 
I say it seems too good to be true, an’ you'll say 
the same after you’ve been there a while — you 
will, as sure as you’re my daughter.” 

“ What do folks do who live a good way off 
and can’t afford to go?” asked Florinda, who 
was infected by her mother’s interest. 

“ I s’pose they go to some of the other places. 
Chautauqua seems to be a name that covers a 
good deal ; accordin’ to the magazine, don’t you 
know, there are forty or fifty other places where 


A Startled Town, 


203 


they have just such goin’s on, more or less of 
the summer ? I do hope that folks that have 
such advantages know how to appreciate ’em, 
an’ I wish I’d known years sooner that there 
was any thing of the kind in these United States 
—oh, don’t I!” 

And Mrs. Purkis, who had been turning aside 
from the wash-tub, returned to her work with 
an energy which made foam rise around her 
hands as if the heat of her enthusiasm had made 
its way into the water. 

“ It’s good enough, mother, and I’m awful 
glad we’re going,” said Florinda; “but I can’t 
see what there is about it to make you so heav- 
enly happy.” 

“ Can’t see ?” The speaker turned from the tub 
as she spoke, and the mass of iridescent bubbles 
slowly subsided as she continued : “ Then I’ll 

make you see, I guess. It appears to be a place 
where there’s a good deal besides one’s day’s 
work to do an’ see an’ think about. There 
hasn’t been anythin’ like that for me anywhere 
else in the world ever since I was married. 
I’m not findin’ fault with your father — he’s doin’ 
splendid now — but you know what I mean. I 


204 


The Chautauqtians. 


don’t care how hard 1 work ; I’m used to it that 
I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if there 
wasn’t always somethin’ to do next, but 1 would 
like somethin’ to look forward to in case 1 was 
goin* to have a moment to call my own, and 
that seems to be the only place I ever heard of 
where I could do it. That’s why I’m so heavenly 
happy, as you call it, at the idea of goin’ there.” 

Florinda seemed to understand, for she mur- 
mured : 

“ Dear mother !’* 


CHAPTER XIV. 

ALONE WITH HIS CONSCIENCE. 

‘‘Only two months more of this,” Joe Warren 
murmured to himself, as he tossed a book across 
the room as if it were a clinging animal that he 
was wild to get rid of ; “ only two months more, 
and then I’ll burn a set of books with as much 
joy as a zealot ever got out of the burning of a 


Alone with His Conscience, 


205 


heretic. Great guns ! How tired I am of 
them !” 

Joe looked unutterable things at the offending 
book, but looks did not seem adequate to the 
expression of his feelings ; for he rose suddenly 
from his chair, crossed the room and gave the 
book a violent kick, following it about the room 
for the sake of repeating the infliction several 
times. Finally he threw himself, panting, upon 
his bed, and remarked : 

“ There ! 1 feel a great deal better. I do 

wonder what makes me hate this reading course 
so intensely ? I thought some of my college 
work was stupid, but ’twas bliss compared with 
this. I really can’t understand why. There’s 
only an hour a day of it, and I flatter myself that 
what takes the general crowd an hour can be 
made out by me in half the time. There’s noth- 
ing wrong about the books, either; they’re quite 
as well put together as any of my college text- 
books, and parts of them are really interesting. 
I really believe I wouldn’t feel so bad if the 
lessons were a great deal longer ; as it is 1 don’t 
touch them or think of them oftener than once a 
week; there’s nothing in them that 1 can’t 


206 


The Chautauquans, 


master in a little while, so it certainly isn’t the 
work that spoils my temper so much. 

“ I suppose the real trouble is the amount of 
worrying I get about the course, from mother 
and the girls. One would suppose they never 
studied or read anything before, by the fuss they 
make about this confounded Chautauqua course. 
They study at regular hours, just as if they were 
going to meals or to church ; I wish they’d been 
four years at college, then they wouldn’t be so 
fond of that kind of bondage. As if it weren’t 
simply maddening to see them make such slaves 
of themselves, they want me to be just like them, 
and look so unhappy when I don’t that it makes 
me wish that Chautauqua idea had never been 
heard of. Let those who like to study that way 
do so, but they might let others alone. People 
aren’t all made alike in this world.” 

Joe seemed to give some silent thought to this 
subject, for he began to soliloquize in a few 
minutes. 

“ It is too bad though to worry so good a 
family of women about so small a thing. When 
my heart is set upon anything they always try 
to sympathi?^ with me and help me along. The 


Alone with Ilis Conscience. 


207 


difference is, however, that 1 generally get up 
something that’s pleasant and that has some ‘ go ’ 
to it — not that there isn’t go enough to the 
Chautauqua work, in this family. What I mean 
is that I generally interest myself in something 
that’s really pleasing. There’s boating, now, 
everybody likes that — all the women-folks, I 
mean, after they get used to it. To be sure, 
mother and the girls all did look very pale for a 
whole season whenever I persuaded them to go 
out with me ; but they seem to like it well 
enough now. I got them to put off lots of sew- 
ing and give up some of their stupid women’s 
meetings so as to go with me; but I’m sure that 
it did them lots of good in the end. Sis said the 
sewing had to be done all the same, when the 
trips were over, and some extra calls had to be 
made to explain the ‘ cutting ’ of the meetings ; 
but — well — ” 

There seemed to be some obstacle in the way 
of Joe’s train of reasoning, for he slowly arose 
from the bed and began to wrinkle and pinch 
his forehead ; a moment or two later he got upon 
his feet and paced the floor. 

“ They do anything and everything to oblige 


2o8 


The Chatitauqtians, 


me, putting themselves to considerable trouble 
by doing so ; and in this one thing, which is 
almost the only one in which they’ve made 
demands upon me. I’m as disobliging as if I were 
a* boor instead of the only man in the family — a 
man who calls himself a gentleman. Joe Warren, 
you’re a hypocrite ! — a. contemptible hypocrite ! 
I’ve heard before that I was being spoiled by 
being the only man in the family, and I’ve taken 
it as a joke. I wonder if folks meant it ? Pleas- 
ant thing to think about — a lot of people seeing 
my faults and talking about them, probably, 
while I’ve been imagining myself everything I 
ought to be and a model for the other young 
men of the town. Well, I am a pretty decent 
fellow — better than the average ; I don’t drink 
or swear or gamble or lie, and 1 flatter myself 
that I always have my manners about me, and 
that ought to amount to something.” 

This assurance did not seem entirely satis- 
factory, for the soliloquy continued : 

“It’s no use, young man; you can’t lie to 
yourself this morning, no matter how much and 
well you’ve done it before. All the virtues 
you’ve been pluming yourself upon were born 


Alone with His Conscience. 


209 


in you ; you can’t point to a single one that 
you’ve acquired yourself ; 1 dare you to do it. 
You took up this Chautauqua work reluctantly ; 
you wouldn’t have done it at all if it hadn’t been 
for Alice Dawn. All you’ve done in it has been 
for the sake of Alice Dawn — or yourself, which 
means the same thing. Would you have done 
it for the sake of your mother and sisters alone ? 
Honest, now ? No, you wouldn’t — you know 
you wouldn’t ; you’d have made some excuse, 
and those dear women, who loved you before 
Alice Dawn was out of short dresses, would 
have wrapped themselyes around your finger 
and tried to persuade one another that, perhaps, 
the dear boy was right, after all, just as I’ve 
heard them doing lots of times when they didn’t 
suppose 1 was within hearing distance. 

“Confound Alice Dawn! — No, I don’t mean 
exactly that ; but what has she ever done for me 
or any one else that I should be more regardful 
of her wishes than those of my own flesh and 
blood? Nothing. She’s looked pretty, and I’ve 
fallen in love with her — not that any one could 
help it, or wouldn’t show good sense in doing it ; 
but the idea of my letting any one get from me 


210 


TJie Chautauquans. 


more attention and respect and self-sacrifice 
than I give my very own ! Joe Warren, you're 
worse than a hypocrite ; you’re a contemptible 
cub !” 

This assurance did not settle the matter. A 
great many people consider themselves even 
with their consciences when they have acknowl- 
edged a fault, .but something born in Joe, or 
specially sent to him, or growing out of the train 
of thought in which he had become involved, 
carried him farther, and made him say : 

“ There’s got to be a change — a big one — so 
big a one that I scarcely know where to begin it. 
First, I’m going to take the same hours for study 
that mother and the girls have, and I’m not going 
to allow anything — boating, fishing, tennis, wheel- 
ing, or even a chance to walk with Alice Dawn, 
keep me away from it. I’m not going to do it 
with the air of a man bearing a cross, either ; 
I’m going to make myself like the work, for its 
own sake if possible, but first for the sake of 
those who love me. Mother and the girls 
speak so admirably of Dawn and some of the 
other members of the circle who make the 
lessons more interesting by adding to the gen- 


Alone with His Conscie7ice, 


2 I I 


eral stock of knowledge on the subject. Tm 
going to stop the habit of putting off anything 
and everything else, as well as the lessons. Old 
Prex used to say something about that at college 
and I thought him very unjust, for I made about 
as good a record as any one else in the class rooms 
when the final test came. Oh, what a fool I have 
been ! I’ve not even determined on anything to 
do as a life work — been putting it off, and off, 
and off, on one excuse and another, just because 
there is money enough in the family for us to 
live on in our quiet way. What a blind donkey 
I have been ! Mother and sisters have seen it — 
old Prex saw it, the fellows at college saw it, for 
I lost my place in the class crew by putting off 
training too long. Everybody else has seen it, 
too, I suppose.” 

Joe would have seen a face he never saw before 
could he have caught his own reflection in the 
mirror as he paced the room, looking as dejected 
and ashamed as a sneak thief caught in the act. 
Suddenly, though, he stopped short and looked 
startled — even alert, as he exclaimed : 

“ Great Scott ! Perhaps she has seen it ! It 
jnaj^ be that the cause of some pf the strange 


212 


The Chautauqtians. 


looks she has given me, and of my inability to 
get along more than just so far xvith her. 
Tve been the most conceited fool that ever 
lived. Umph ! I wonder whether girls ever 
change their minds about a fellow — girls of 
that kind, I mean !’^ 

The step with which Joe crossed the floor a 
few times was like that of an animal getting 
ready to spring; when it ended, Joe said to 
himself: 

“ There’s to be an entirely different young man 
go from this room to-morrow morning — and all 
because of a row with himself over a Chautau- 
qua lesson. Whoop her up for Chautauqua !” 

♦ 

CHAPTER XV. 

WHAT SHALL THE HARVEST BE? 

No one in Brinston was more solicitous for 
the success of the Chautauqua movement than 
Pastor Whitton. It was his duty, as a hard- 
working member of a profession which has for 
its end and aim the uplifting of humanity, to 


What Shall the Harvest Be f 213 

study closely and honestly all means having the 
same end in view, no matter how slightly they 
might contribute to the general result. He had 
b'een present at the birth of many promising 
societies organized for the purpose of helping 
poor humanity over some of its stumbling- 
blocks, and he had afterward been in at the 
death of most of them. He had learned to dis- 
trust all improving and reformatory influences 
which were dependent upon resolutions, no 
matter how unanimous or enthusiastic, or even 
upon legal enactments. ‘‘ Humanity must work 
for itself,” was his frequent reply to w^ell-mean- 
ing people who came to him with new schemes 
for the regeneration of mankind. He did not 
object to any efforts being made by persons who 
had already made good use of their existing 
opportunities, but experience had taught him to 
suspect almost all new movements as attempts 
to open royal roads for those who were too lazy 
to move along the highway which was good 
enough for those who really achieved success. 

With these principles and a memory full of 
plans that had failed in their purpose to make 
people wi^er and better through means which 


2 14 Chautauqtcans. 

seemed very easy and attractive, Pastor Whit- 
ton had observed the Brinston circle and its mem- 
bers very closely from the beginning. Like all 
other conscientious pastors, he had long before 
charged himself with several times as much work 
as was within the power of any man to accom- 
plish, yet made it a matter of duty to read each 
of the Chautauqua text-books in turn, at the 
times appointed, not only that he might not be 
lacking in example, but that he might discover, 
when opportunity allowed, how far the other 
readers were really interesting themselves in 
something beside the mere pleasure of gathering 
once a week and listening to what the better 
informed members were prompted to say. He 
was persistent in questions as to w^ho was drop- 
ping out or seeming to abate in interest ; and 
although he seldom was able to attend a meeting, 
he did all in his power to urge those who had 
abundant leisure to keep up with the work. He 
shamed some good-natured yet lazy-minded 
adults into continuing when they were on the 
point of giving up ; he bullied some of the young 
men and persuaded some of the young women, 
^nd ^11 the vybile he kept in mind the qngomplp 


Wkat Shall the Harvest Be f 


215 


mentary remarks which the postmaster had 
made about the manner of ministers in talking to 
people on subjects other than religion. He was 
obliged by experience to admit — only to himself 
— that the postmaster had been right, and only 
some other pastor could realize how much mental 
effort was put into the few and simple remarks he 
made in his strife to maintain interest in the work 
of the class, and to avoid an air of authority in 
matters in which he had no greater right than 
that of counselor. 

Of one thing he was sure — he became so be- 
fore the class had been at work three months — 
and that was that the work of the circle had 
abated to a gratifying extent the rage for gossip 
with which Brinston, like all other villages, was 
chronically affected. There was still too much 
of it, and of the annoying, exasperating and 
sometimes shameful effects of irresponsible, idle 
talk. As for that, any of it would have been too 
much ; yet Pastor Whitton found fewer lies to 
nail, fewer reputations causelessly aspersed, than 
in any preceding three months of his experience 
in the village. If this pleasing result was notice- 
able when not a quarter of the village families 


2i6 


The Chautauquans. 


were represented in the circle, it must be that 
the indirect influence of the members was unex- 
pectedly larger, or — horrible thought ! — perhaps 
the reason he heard so little idle talk was that a 
majority of the members of the circle were also 
members of his own church. 

This thought was so dreadful that the pastor 
could not bear it alone, so he hurried to the post- 
office to share it with Mr. Brown. That official 
listened to the case, which was presented some- 
what in the form of a problem ; but instead of 
expressing sorrow at the only possible conclu- 
sion, or offering sympathy to the troubled minis- 
ter, he bluntly exclaimed : 

“ Tm glad of it! I don’t know of any church 
in town in which Td rather see the good work 
begin. I don’t think it can be wrong to feel that 
way ; you know the early Christians began by 
trying to convert their own race — ‘beginning first 
at Jerusalem,’ you know the passage reads. You 
needn’t think our church has had a monopoly of 
that sort of thing, though ; I’ve learned by long 
listening to talk that drifts into this post-office 
that all creeds are alike in one respect — they all 
lie about their neighbors in the same way. 1 


What Shalt the Harvest Be ? 217 


think I would have sold out this business long 
ago, resigned the office and gone out to nay 
farm to live and enjoy life if it weren’t for the 
good I’m able to do in switching off lies before 
they have gone far enough to do much harm. 
I oughtn’t to call them lies, either. I don’t sup- 
pose one in ten of them was ever intended to 
reach the size in which I found it. It got there 
all the same, though. I used to wonder, after 
I’d chased some rascally yarn to its death, how 
the thing ever came to be born, but I found out 
as soon as I became an enforced listener. Why, 
I’ve heard a story told in half a dozen different 
ways in a single half-hour right in this very 
room; a story that would have knocked a decent 
young person’s reputation endwise if it hadn’t 
been killed right then and there. But there’s no 
sense in telling you all this, and you a minister 
with both eyes open.” 

“ No,” sighed the pastor ; “ but I can’t help 
wondering what people have in view when they 
start stories, or even repeat them, when they 
have no reason to believe them true.” 

“What they have in view? Not anything. 
Folks who talk about other folks never do have 


The Chautmiquans. 


218 


anything in view any way, except to pass away 
time without having to do any thinking, and 
with the chance to gratify idle curiosity. Such 
folks seldom mean anything out of the way ; 
they wouldn’t hurt a fly, bless you — not all at 
once ; but they’re for all the world like little 
children, who little by little will tear their best 
dolls to pieces to see what they’re made of. 
‘ Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to 
do,’ eh? Still, if the Chautauqua work is lessen- 
ing that sort of mischief in town, all the other 
pastors ought to know it at once.” 

“ It’s rather a delicate subject on which to 
approach any of the brethren in the other 
churches,” said the pastor. “ I don’t care to 
admit that I’ve had to fight a great deal of tha 
sort of thing in my own charge.” 

“You aren’t called upon to do so,” said the 
postmaster, “ for all of them know it already, 
You needn’t fear to imply that there’s plenty of 
it in their own churches, either, for they know 
that, too. What you can tell them, though, is 
that gossip and back-biting have fallen off a 
great deal since a few dozen people found some- 
thing to occupy their minds, and that you’re 


What Shall the Harvest Be 9 219 


awfully ashamed of yourself for not noticing 
sooner that most of the Chautauqua Circle are 
from your church. You may say I’m in sack- 
cloth about it, too, if you like ; and that if they’ll 
forgive our stupidity and send in a lot of recruits 
they’ll be heaping coals of fire upon our heads 
and be getting rid of their own torments at the 
same time. That’s the way to handle the subject ; 
go at it as if you meant business and were all 
well-meaning Christians together, instead of 
putting on the heavenly twang and doing some 
sparring that isn’t good for anything but to use 
up breath and good nature.” 

“ It’s a great pity that you can’t do all my 
talking for me. Brother Brown,” said the pastor, 
with a trace of ice in his tone. 

“ I beg your pardon, dominie,” said the post- 
master, hastily. “ I must learn to attend to my 
business and let other men’s alone. 1 really 
suppose, when I come to think of it, that the 
talk of two or three postmasters, if you should 
chance to hear it, would sound so peculiar that 
you couldn’t help thinking you could improve 
it. Talk to the other pastors in your own way ; 
you’d do it anyhow, you know. But do get 


220 


The Chautauquans. 


them to come in and help take the denomination- 
alism out of our circle ; as I said before, they’ll 
do it quick enough if they see a chance of put- 
ting down gossip a little bit. If it weren’t for 
fear of interfering with your business again, I’d 
ask you if there weren’t some more inducements 
of a moral kind that you could offer.” 

“ There certainly is one. It is the great 
improvement in the boys and girls who are 
studying with the circle. All of them whom I 
know are changing for the better so rapidly that 
I am finding myself astonished whenever I meet 
them. I don’t understand it; there is nothing 
in the lessons which seems specially calculated 
to produce such a result.” 

“ It all comes of their being in the company of 
older people and treated as equals — at least, for 
one evening a week. Any boy will be on his 
good behavior to any extent for the sake of 
being tolerated by a bigger boy, even when the 
bigger boy is mentally and morally his inferior. 
The younger people in the circle feel that they’re 
on their honor while they’re with the grown peo- 
ple, and it’s the first experience that any of them 
have had of being listened to patiently and 


What Shall the Harvest Be ? 


221 


respectfully, when they've anything to say. I 
see the difference in them myself, in some wa3^s ; 
the class of reading-matter that the boys and 
girls are calling for is a great deal higher than 
that of a few months ago. The youngsters are 
ambitious to prove that they can look about as 
far into a given subject as some of their elders. 
I don’t mean that the demand for flashy novels 
has ended, or that the boys have gone back on 
the papers that give -the record of baseball and 
horse-racing ; but I do say that they show more 
respect for periodicals which pi int substantial 
and thoughtful matter, like historical essays and 
historical romances, along with the lighter 
adventure and love stories.” 

“ There’s certainly a great deal to be encour- 
aged about, then,” said the preacher, “and there 
seems promise of an abundant harvest.” 

“ Well, I should say so — and so soon after plant- 
ing, too ! It’s one of those crops that you begin to 
harvest almost as soon as the seed is sown. It all 
depends upon keeping at work, of course, and 
chasing up the lazy ones ; but I’ve never seen 
anything but religion that yielded so much with 
so little labor, and that brought so much from 


222 


The Chautauquans. 


places where one had no right to .expect any- 
thing of any consequence. Look at those 
Purkises! Why, they’ve been preached at from 
every pulpit in this town for years without being 
hit hard enough to do them any good beyond 
what the old woman may have hidden in her 
heart ; now the prospects are that the head of 
the family will soon be able to retire his wife 
from the wash-tub and give her a chance to rest 
before she dies. Look at the two or three of his 
old crowd that he coaxed in. I admit that they’re 
not ornaments of society and don’t promise to 
become so, but they certainly are rapidly becom- 
ing harmless, for the first time since I had the 
misfortune to know them by face and name. 
Look at three or four whole families sitting 
together in the same circle, studying the same 
book, and, therefore, interested all together in 
something that isn’t a matter of dollars and cents 
or of bread and butter. Why, I wouldn’t have 
believed it possible if I hadn’t seen it. I and my 
boys have stuck together very closely since their 
mother died ; I’ve had to try to be two parents 
in one ; but the oddity of it, as it seemed 
to other people, showed me how little parents 


What Shall the Harvest Be f 


223 

and children have in common, as a rule. Look 
at Broad ” — here the postmaster looked cau- 
tiously around to see that the manufacturer was 
not, perchance, coming in ; “ square man, of 
course, and got a big head full of brains, but 
always so much smarter than other folks as to be 
just overbearing enough to be a great deal dis- 
liked. Now Broad sits in the class looking as 
modest and appreciative as any of the young- 
sters ; if he keeps on he’ll be a model of Christian 
graces before he gets through. I tell you, 
dominie, that nothing ever happened in this town, 
revivals of religion not excepted, that promised 
so good a harvest as this little circle that came 
into existence through a chance chat in this 
store a few months ago.” 

“ Don’t call it chance, then,” said the pastor. 

“ You’re quite right; I take it back,” said the 
postmaster. “ I suppose, though, it isn’t sinful to 
say that it shows what chances are lying around 
within reach for those who’ve got the will to 
pick them up and improve them.’' 



CHAPTER XVL 

APRIL-FOOL. 

The first of April had long been one of Brins- 
ton’s most carefully celebrated holidays. Inde- 
pendence Day was the occasion of more noise, 
and Christmas called for a greater outlay of 
money, but for painstaking preparation and for 
variety of unexpected sensations. All Fools’ Day 
easily distanced all others. It may not be neces- 
sary to add that most of the intentional work 
was done by the juvenile members of the com- 
munity ; still, there are grown people whose 
memories are short about this sort of thing. 

Among the boys, Frank Dawn had for years 
been the leader in devising ways of tormenting 
the adult members of the community. Leader- 
ship lias its penalties among boys as well as 
among older people, and one of the most inexor- 
[224] 



ON THE PIAZZA AT CHAUTAUQUA.— ,S'ee Faye 267 . 


■ 



ji*' 


A pril-FooL 


225 


able is that the leader must continue to excel 
himself as well as keep in advance of others. 
Frank was fully alive to this requirement, and 
had learned by experience that preparations and 
plans could not begin too soon. Indeed, the sun 
had not gone down on the last day of fool-making 
that occurred before this narrative opens, when 
Frank had thought out some entirely fresh and 
startling tricks to play upon certain individuals. 
New peculiarities of human nature had been 
discovered which required new devices ; besides, 
some of the natives had become so wary of all 
the simple capers that they had to be treated as 
carefully as the veteran trout whose jaw is 
fringed with the hooks of his adolescent period. 

There was Mr. Broad, for instance. Some of 
the more superstitious boys really believed that 
he was in league with Satan, and knew all the 
wiles of the wicked, for he could see through 
almost anything devised for the purpose of catch- 
ing him off his guard and spoiling his temper. 
Old Purkis, too, though seemingly stupid about 
everything that might work to his lasting inter- 
est, succeeded in eluding almost all the nets 
spread for liis feet. 


226 


The Chautauquans. 


Joe Warren had been a boy within a very few 
years, and had been to college besides ; an ex- 
perience which all the village boys regarded as 
being full of opportunities for a finishing course 
in mischief ; yet it was worth while to expend 
a great deal of thought and even some money for 
the sake of “ fooling ” Joseph, particularly in the 
presence of young women ; for he did turn so 
very red and become so gloriously angry. 

A fortnight before the eventful day there was 
a special meeting of trusty boys called by Frank 
Dawn, in his semi-official capacity. Not all the 
Brinston boys could be taken into confidence at 
such times ; there were some who meant well, 
but were ‘‘leaky;’' others had grudges of 
their own to settle, and would unscrupulously 
appropriate to private purposes the best ideas of 
the general body. To avoid such mistakes the 
meeting was held in the center of an open field 
about a mile from the town, where there could 
be no listeners ; the last gathering for a similar 
purpose had been called at a barn, without lights, 
and some of the boys not included in the invi- 
tation, had listened at the cracks and afterward 
warned the intended victims, with the result that 


A pril-FooL 


227 


one boy was compelled to pay a tribute of 
trousers-seat to a big dog, while another, who 
sat up all night so as to put vinegar in the milk- 
pail of a crusty old bachelor who was served 
just before dawn, had a whole wash tub of water 
dumped upon him from a piazza roof and then 
had his best derby hat crushed by the fall of the 
tub itself. Such irregularities were unani- 
mously reprobated by all boys who believed in 
fair play — that is, fair play among boys. 

There was a full attendance. Boys who could 
not get time to go on an errand, or split kindling 
wood, or beat a carpet for a house-cleaning 
mother, let no personal engagement keep them 
from the meeting. To reach the rendezvous 
some of the delegates had to make a wide detour 
through swampy ground, in which, owing to the 
earliness of the season, there was not a single 
bullfrog to club nor a turtle to pepper with 
stones, but they got there all the same. One 
lame boy, Avho generally was late at school 
because he waited for chances to ride, his bad 
leg being so weak, boasted that he had been so 
careful that his route covered three miles and 
seventeen fences, several of which were ol 


228 


The Chautauquans. 


barbed wire. Still another arose from a sick-bed 
rather than fail in his duty, and his devotion to 
duty was appropriately recognized when he 
made his appearance. 

As the later arrivals approached, they saw 
Frank Dawn standing a little apart from the 
others, with his hands behind his back and an 
expression of deep thought upon his face. 

“ Look at the style of him !” whispered one of 
Frank’s admirers to another. Ain’t he got ’em 
bad?” 

“You’re right he has,” was the reply. 

“ Genius is just blazing behind that brow ; if it 
isn’t, call me too late for supper.” 

“Ah, here, Frank!” finally shouted another, 
although he was loath to interrupt a train of 
thought which must promise bliss to the boys 
and misery to some one else. 

“ Oh,” said Frank, rousing himself. Then he 
thought a while longer, but finally approached 
his followers, and asked : “ Well, what have you 
got ?” 

Several boys began at once to unload their 
mind of tricks which had been thought out with 
more or less care, and all of which could be * 


A pril-FooL 


229 


depended upon to keep the village temper from 
stagnating. 

Here — here — this Avill never do,” Frank 
exclaimed : don’t all shoot together. Speak 
one at a time, beginning with the smallest.” 

Order was restored at once, for what boy was 
ever in haste to acknowledge himself smaller 
than any other boy ? There was some careful 
estimating, each fellow for himself, in the next 
two or three minutes ; then a very ' small boy 
unfolded a plan for taking the sign 


FOUNDRY 


from one of Mr. Broad’s mills and placing it 
over the door of a German baker whose cake- 
counter was largely supported by school-boys. 

* “ We’ll kill two birds with one stone in that 
way,” said this designer of the trick, “ for that 
Dutchman’s cakes ’re as hard as cast-iron. They’ve 
give me a pain.” 

Next !” said Frank, after the murmur of 
approval had subsided. 

A boy promptly offered a suggestion, accom- 


230 


The Chatitauquans. 


panied by a working design, of slyly replacing 
the teacher's ruler with an imitation made of 
molasses candy. He had experimented a great 
deal before succeeding in “ pulling ” the candy 
to the proper color, pressing it smooth and add- 
ing the lines and figures with which the original 
was decorated, but he believed that the sample, 
which he had brought to the meeting suspended 
by a thread drawn through a hole in the end, 
would convince the crowd of the practicability of 
the plan. He had even taken the pains to test it, 
as to its endurance of heat, and had demonstrated 
that at the ordinary temperature of the school- 
room it might be laid on the teacher’s table 
half an hour before the “ last bell,” so no one 
would be present to know who did it. It would 
retain its appearance perfectly, but on being 
picked up it would raise with it whatever 
paper it might be lying upon; it would also 
be soft enough to stick to the teacher’s hand. 

“You’ll be a great scientist when you grow 
^ up,” Frank predicted, while one of the larger 
boys proceeded with his teeth to analyze an 
end of the sample and was called to order by 
the designer. 


A pril-Fool. 


231 


By this time enthusiasm had taken posses- 
sion of the crowd, and the members did not 
stand on the order of their size, but fought 
with their voices for the privilege of speaking 
first, the stronger voices winning. Before half 
of the boys had spoken, one excitable fellow 
went into an ecstasy of exultation, dancing about 
wildly and swinging his arms aloft as he shouted : 

“’Twill be the bulliest April Fool Day that 
ever was 

After all had spoken, some contributing sev- 
eral forms of deviltry each, and all had been as 
appreciative as could be asked, Frank Dawn, 
who had laughed as merrily as any one at every- 
thing that was particularly good — or bad- 
pursed up his lips, contracted his brows and 
looked rather pale, as he said : 

“ It’s a stunning lot, fellows ; it’s far ahead of 
anjdhing and everything we ever did before, and 
we’ve had lots of fun laughing them over — 
haven’t we?” 

“Well, rather !” one of the larger boys roared. 

“ Good !” said Frank, with an effort, as if he 
were trying to swallow something. “ Now, I 


'l'X2 


The Chautaiiquans. 


want to make a suggestion : Suppose we let it 
stop at that T 

There was dead silence for a moment ; a boy, 
who said afterward that one might have heard a 
pin drop, was corrected by the remark that you 
could have heard a million pins drop. Then 
there arose a deep murmur of dissent, while one 
boy asked a minister’s son if he supposed Frank 
Dawn was under conviction, and if, in case he 
was, it wasn’t dirt mean to worm all the good 
tricks out of those who weren’t. Finally one of 
the crowd asked : 

“ What’s the matter with you, Frank, anyhow ?” 

Fellows,” was the reply, “ I’m just as fond of 
fun as any of you, as you all know ; the whole lot 
of you may play any tricks you like on me on 
the First of April and I won’t get mad. But 
this thing of tormenting grown folks, and pick- 
ing out the very ones that we think will be most 
worried by them — why, I simply can’t go into it. 
Fve been trying to ever since I came out here, 
but it’s no use. If I take part in it I’ll feel as 
mean as a sneak thief. You all know well 
enough that I’m not afraid of anything that may 


A pril-FooL 


233 


happen to us from any of our mischief, but I am 
*a good deal afraid of myself.” 

“ He is under conviction, sure,” said one of the 
boys; “and,” he continued, “it didn’t strike 
him just now, either, for he didn’t give us a 
single one of his own notions, though he’s been 
sajdng for months that he had a lot.” 

“ Hold on. Jack !” Frank exclaimed. “ I’m as 
fond of fun as I ever was. I’m not under convic- 
tion, either, if you mean that I am more religi- 
ous than I was. But for a few months I’ve been 
treated like a man by some of these people we’ve 
always taken pains to worry, and I don’t like to 
pay them by acting as if I were a monkey.” 

“ Who’s treated you like a man, I’d like to 
know ?” growled a big fellow of whom Frank 
had some fear, for, when displeased, he had a 
bad temper and an ugly tongue. 

“ Broad has, for one ; so has Joe Warren, and 
even old Purkis.” 

“ What have they done — given you cigars or 
listened to your notions about politics? Mebbe 
Broad and Purkis have invited you to call upon 
their daughters?” 

Frank flushed ; he had become old enough to 


234 


The Chautatiquans. 


begin to be particular about his personal appear-^ 
ance, and to feel pleased when any young woman 
recognized him as something more than a mere 
boy. He replied : 

“No; they’ve done nothing but treat me as 
their equal in the Chautauqua class, and I’m not 
ashamed to own that I’m very proud of it. I 
want them to go on doing so, and to learn to 
respect me, and I can’t be double-faced and 
worry them while I feel that way.” 

“ Well, that’s the most Miss Nancyish nonsense 
I ever heard tell of !” said the big boy. 

“There’s no nonsense about it,” replied Frank, 
with a great deal of spirit and some anger. 
“ Here you other fellows, speak up, and don’t 
make me do all the talking. T wo-thirds of you 
are in the class with me, and have been treated 
as well as I, and I believe you think as I do about 
it. If you’re not cowards you’ll say so, too.” 

As all boys are cowardly enough to fear to be 
called cowards, several in the crowd admitted 
that Frank was right. Those who were not in 
the class sided with the big boy who protested, 
but as they found themselves in the minority 
they did not say much. Frank continued : 


April-Fool. 


235 


“I move a comproaiise : Let’s have all the 
fun that’s possible among ourselves on April 
Fool Day, but draw the line at grown people. If 
any of you don’t agree with me, you know per- 
fectly well that I won’t tell on you if you get 
into trouble. Any fellow who says I will is a 
liar.” 

The big boy who had made the first protest 
clenched his fists, but as he looked around he 
changed his mind. Boys generally take sides in 
a fight, and there was a large majority against 
him. 

“ If any of you doubt what I say about us boys 
in the class being treated as men,” Frank con- 
tinued, “ visit the class at the next meeting and 
judge for yourselves.” 

The two factions separated for consultation and 
finally conferred with each other. It was agreed, 
though under protest from the big boy, that 
action on the new tricks proposed should be 
deferred for a year, and that meantime the 
minority should visit the class and see for them- 
selves whether Frank and his adherents were not 
mistaken. Then the meeting adjourned, and the 
delegates returned to the town in a body, the 


236 


The Chautauquans, 


lame boy declaring that as for him, he thought 
this world a pretty mean place for boys. 

When the morning of the First of April 
dawned, Mr. Broad arose early, as was his cus- 
tom on that day, and inspected his property. 
His signs were all in place ; no percussion-caps 
were in the key-holes of the locks, nor was 
there any indication that the chimneys had been 
stuffed with wet rags. Later, he found no bogus 
orders in his morning mail. l^r. Purkis found 
no strings stretched across the path from his 
door to the street ; no counterfeit dollar baked 
in a brick specially introduced in the sidewalk 
in front of the house. He told his wife that he 
wondered what new caper those fiends of boys 
were going to try upon him, but he wondered 
in vain ; for he did not even receive a spurious 
invitation to meet a boon companion at a saloon 
— an old trick, but one which never failed to 
work. Joe Warren was on needles all day, but 
his coat tails remained unadorned, and although 
he passed several boys while he was walking 
with one of the Broad girls, he heard no dis- 
quieting and untruthful remarks about his per- 
sonal appearance. There was a general feeling 


A Happy Slave, 


237 


of apprehension in the town until the evening 
was far advanced, and some of the natives who 
had suffered at other times, gathered at the 
post-office to discuss the situation. When the 
fire-bell rang there was a general disinclination 
to turn out, but the alarm proved genuine. Late 
in the evening Mr. Dawn went home, and said : 

“ There's been more April fooling in town 
to-day than ever before.” 

“Where? Howi^' asked Frank, raising his 
eyes from a book. 

“ Why the boys have done absolutely nothing. 
How did it happen, Frank?” 

“Oh, Chautauqua,” was the reply, as the boy 
closed the book and went to bed. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A HAPPY SLAVE. 

Mrs. Purkis leaned over her kneading-board 
one bright July morning, at Chautauqua, and 
looked out across the smiling lake to the green 


238 


The Chautauquans. 


hills beyond. It was a favorite outlook of hers, 
yet, as she took in the scene anew, she seemed 
as pleased and surprised as on that first eventful 
morning, after reaching the town in the darkness 
of the night before, when the surroundings of 
her temporary new home burst upon her. But 
time was money. She had a house full of 
boarders, and summer boarders always have 
tremendous appetites, especially for bread and 
butter; that batch of bread^must be baked in 
time to cool, so that it would slice decently at 
dinner-time ; so Mrs. Purkis fell again to knead 
ing vigorously. As she worked she sang loudly 
and with much energy, keeping time with her 
knuckles in the great puff of dough before her: 

IVe reached — a land of corn — and wine. 

And all — its riches free — ly mine ; 

Here shines — undimmed one bliss — ful day. 

For all — my night has passed — away.” 

As the verse ended, she turned the mass of 
dough on the board, dusted it anew with flour, 
turned it again, and again began kneading and 
singing, this time in softer tone, as if the song 
were something sweet and tender that needed a 


A Happy Slave. 


239 


great deal of caressing. Even the bread must 
have been conscious of a change of feeling in 
the singer, for, although the kneading hands still 
beat time upon the yielding dough, the impres- 
sions were less vigorous. The verse ended, 
Mrs. Purkis hummed the chorus, and then sang 
the same lines over again. When she stopped, 
Florinda, who also was busily engaged in the 
kitchen, said : 

“ It does me worlds of good to hear you sing, 
mother, and most of all to hear you sing that 
way. Seems to me I haven’t heard it before 
not since Arabella stopped being a bab}^” 

“ What’s that, gal ?” asked the mother, stop- 
ping work for a moment and turning round. 
“ Why, ’pears to me I’ve always sung a power- 
ful lot. It was the only comfort I had sometimes 
for months together, when your father was — 
when he wasn’t doin’ as well as he is now, an 
you two gals wasn’t much but torments. Sing- 
in’ ’s all that’s stood ’tween me an’ breaking 
down just thousan’s an’ thousan’s of times.” 

“Yes, mother, I know,” replied the girl, 
gently ; “ but I was talking about the way you 
was doing it just now. Your voice sounded as 


240 


The Chautauqua7ts, 


if you was singing to something you loved very 
much — something as nice and sweet and good 
as a little baby.” 

“ Well,” said the mother, as she began again 
to work ” the dough, “ it’s too big a thing to 
call a baby, I s’pose, but I was feelin’ very ten- 
der an’ lovin’ to somethin’ just then. It was 
this heavenly Chautauqua.” 

“ I don’t see what there is heavenly about it,” 
said Arabella, who just then came in from a 
store with a large basket, under which she bent 
awkwardly and painfully. “ There’s just as 
much work to do here as there was back in 
Brinston ; seems to me there’s a good deal 
more.” 

“ Work?” echoed the mother, “of course there 
is ; there’s work everywhere except in the gut- 
ter. What makes me happy, an’ makes me feel 
it’s a heavenly place, is the lots that I get for my 
work.” 

“ Don’t get no more than you would if you 
kept boardin’-house in Brinston,” said Arabella 
sulkily. 

“ I’m not talkin’ about that kind of getting, 
child,” said the mother, looking as if she won- 


A Happy Slave. 


241 


dered whether rebuke or instruction was what 
her daughter most needed. “ Keepin’ boarders 
is a heap harder work than takin’ in washin’ an’ 
ironin’, an’ I’d drop dead of it sometimes, I 
think, if ’twasn’t for the glorious fresh cool air 
up here. It’s work from mornin’ till night, an’ 
I don’t get to see an’ hear half the things that 
goes on in the Auditorium after dark, an’ that 
I’m dyin’ to see an’ hear, but if I didn’t get to 
see nothin’ at all I think I’d be happy. The idea 
of bein’ where everybody’s decent, an’ there 
ain’t any rum-shops or bad characters to maybe 
get hold of your father again when he comes 
up, an’ nobody to insult you gals, an’ nobody to 
look down on anybody else, an3'how. Why, 
sakes alive ! I never heard of,^ such a place 
before, an’ I never s’posed there could be any- 
thin’ like it this side of heavem” 

“ I think, myself, it’s a prett}’’ nice place,” Flo- 
rinda admitted. “To be sure, I get so tired 
every day with the house-work and the particu- 
larness of the boarders about lots of things that 
never troubled us any to speak of when we was 
at home, that I feel like flying out of my skin. 
I don’t know, though, but what it’s a good thing 


242 


The Chautauquans. 


to learn something about manners among people 
that can afford to have any ; perhaps we can 
afford some ourselves after we get back home. 
What I begun to say was, that I got so tired 
every day that I feel when I go to bed at night 
that I won’t ever be able to get up again, and 
that if I was working for any one but my own 
mother. I’d strike anyway? Somehow, though, 
I feel as good as new every morning, and every- 
body treats me decenter than anybody ever did 
in Brinston, though all our boarders come from 
that very town. How you’re treated in this 
world makes a good deal of difference about 
how you feel.” 

'‘That’s so,” drawled Arabella. 

“ Oh, yotive found that out, have you ?” said the 
mother, looking from one girl to the other ; 
“then I’ve got another reason for blessin’ the 
day we came to this place, an’ — ” here she went 
at the dough again with the energy of one who 
must make up lost time — “ hand me them bakin’- 
pans, Arabella — an’ I’ll work my finger-ends off 
without missin’ ’em if I may be allowed to go 
on. Yes, indeed.” And again she broke into 
song — this time with a wild air of exultation: 


A Happy Slave. 


243 


“ I’ve reached — the land of corn — and wine, 

And all — its riches free — ly mine ; 

Here shines — undimmed one bliss — ful day , 

For all — my night has passed — away." 

“ Why don’t you ever sing the other verses, 
mother, instead of going that first one over and 
over again?” Florinda asked, as her mother 
emphasized the last beat of the last measure by 
bringing the whole nest of baking pans down 
upon the table with a triumphant crash. 

“ Because I haven’t got that far yet, child,” 
was the reply. “ There’s glory enough in the 
first verse to keep me goin’ for a good deal more 
time yet. My soul’s let loose here, no matter 
how much my poor body is chained down to the 
daily grind. I’m so thankful that I don’t know 
how to tell it, even to you two, who are my own 
flesh and blood. I know that I’m an old worn- 
ouc woman, but, thank the Lord, I’ve stopped 
thinkin’ about it, as it don’t seem that I’m the 
same person any more.” 

“ There, Florinda ! What did I tell you only 
yesterday?” asked Arabella. '‘I told you that 
mother was lookin’ years younger, all of a sud- 
den, than I ever seen her in my life.” 


244 


The Chautauquans, 


Mrs. Purkis had just cut from the mass enough 
dough for one of the pans, and was about to 
mould it upon the board, but, as her daughter’s 
remark fell upon her ears, she turned so quickly 
in her surprise that the dough and knife fell to 
the floor. A soft, pleased smile slowly filled her 
face, and finally she said : 

Arabella, child ! you’ve been the baby a 
good many years, an’ I’ve been a-feared some- 
times that you wouldn’t ever be anything else, 
but I take it back now. Your senses have come 
to you at last, or I’m no judge.” 

“ Why, I noticed it in you, too, mother,” Flo- 
rinda made haste to remark. I saw it so plain 
that the other night, after everybody else in the 
house had gone to bed, I sat up an hour and 
wrote a long letter to father about it.” 

The smile on the mother’s face grew brighter 
and had some new lines come into it — brightness 
and lines made by two eyes that filled and over- 
flowed. She looked at one girl and then at the 
other ; she crossed to Arabella, put her arm 
around her, drew her toward her sister, about 
whose waist the other arm was placed, then Mrs. 


A Happy Slave. 


245 


Purkis dropped into a chair and dragged her 
children into her lap as she murmured : 

“ My babies — my darlings! It does seem as if 
the Lord was goin’ to let me be young again for 
you, an’ for your father’s sake. If you only 
knew how old an’ worn out I’ve felt for years 
an’ years, you’d forgive me for speakin’ cross to 
you an’ neglectin’ you, as I know I’ve often done. 
I can tell you, though, that your needin’ of me 
has been all that’s kept me alive sometimes ; it 
didn’t seem that I could be any more good to 
your father — not until a few months back. But 
he’s begun to respect me again, or to show it, 
which comes to the same thing, an’ my two gals 
see that I ain’t what I was, an’ — ” 

The farther expression of the renewed 
woman’s feelings was evidently done by a 
mighty hug, for in a moment Florinda gasped : 

“ You won’t have any daughters left, mother, 
if you do that again.” 

As for Arabella, she raised her clumsy fingers 
to her mother’s cheek with a caress that the 
hand had forgotten — and the cheek, too, for 
many years. The mother pressed the hand with 
her own, as she had done thousands of limes 


246 


The Chautauquans. 


when the child’s hand was much smaller and her 
own much softer; then she pinched each girl’s 
cheek and raised both from her lap as she arose 
exclaiming : 

The boarders ’ll have to eat baker’s bread for 
dinner unless I stop making a goose of myself. 
It’s all too good to be true ; if I should go an’ 
die to-day just you tell your father that it was 
from gettin’ more happiness than 1 could hold.” 

“You mustn’t think we ain’t happy, too, 
mother,” said Arabella. “ 1 know I grumble a 
good deal, but it’s only while the work’s goin’ 
on. 1 do have a real good time nearly every 
day, one way or another. Why, if it wasn’t for 
anything but to hear the music in the Audi- 
torium every day. I’d be willin’ to stay here 
an’ work forever. An’ I’m improvin’ greatly in 
my lessons ; the teacher says so.” (Arabella’s 
studies were confined to the banjo, the instru- 
ment having been paid for by the Broad girls, 
who thought it the funniest thing in the world 
that a member of that very common family 
should show taste for music of any kind, and 
who selected the instrument as being about as 
barbarous as the would-be performer. 


A Happy Slave. 


247 


^‘Well, I’m gettin’ on better than I expected 
with my Greek,” said the mother. 

The girls exchanged glances, almost smiles; 
for their mother’s efforts, still only partially 
successful, to master Greek alphabet, were 
amusing even to their uneducated senses. They 
had foreseen the effect, should the boarders know 
of their mother’s efforts, so they had persuaded 
her to keep the study a profound secret from 
every one. 

“ What makes you like that outlandish language 
so much, mother?” ventured Florinda. “It’s 
awfully hard for you, and there’s so man}" other 
things you could have got on fast with, after the 
splendid way you went through the year’s 
course. There’s so many things that one gets a 
chance to study here, even if not in the classes, 
and everybody seems sO willing to help you.” 

“ I suppose it’s somethin’ wonderful to me, an’ 
always was,” said Mrs. Purkis, as she moulded 
the last loaf and covered all the pans with a 
warm cloth. “ When I was a gal an’ earned a 
Testament in school by recitin’ verses from 
memory for tickets, an’ givin’ twenty tickets for 
a book — ’twas the first book I ever owned all 


248 


The Chautauqiimis. 


by myself, an’ I began readin’ it right from the 
first page, where it says : * Translated from the 
Original Greek.’ Then in church the minister 
used to explain what some Greek words meant, 
and he did seem so awful smart ! Gracious! 
It made me feel as if that minister come from a 
higher world. Afterwards I found out that 
they taught Greek in the colleges, an’ that some 
of the meanest fellers, as well as the best, could 
learn it if the}’^ had any head-piece. That kind o’ 
took Greek down in my mind for a while, an’ 
yet the very knowin’ of such things seemed to 
set any sort of college feller higher up in the 
people’s opinions than anybody else. I always 
did want to be as smart as the smartest ; I wanted 
to know somethin’ about what they did anyway, 
to see how it would feel ; so when we got here, 
an’ I found the old Greek book that somebody in 
the house last year left behind, I made up my 
mind I’d get somethin’ out of it if tryin’ could 
do it. I’ve only been at it a little more than two 
weeks, an’ yet I can spell out some of the short 
words without turnin’ back to the alphabet to find 
out what the letters are. I’ve read a good deal 
about the Greeks, off an’ on, in books from time 


A Happy Slave. 


249 

to time ; they was the first folks in the world 
that had head-piece enough for anythin’ an’ 
ev’rythin’, an’ though they hadn’t much in the 
way of land an’ money when they began, they 
never stopped try in’ an’ in the course of time they 
got to be the smartest folks in the world. I’ve 
got a feelin' for ’em ; I know just how they felt 
when they was keen to do ev’rythin’ an’ hadn’t 
nothin’ to do it with ; an’ just to say the alphabet 
over ’pears to take me back to ’em when they was 
poor an’ strugglin’.! I s’pose it’s ridiculous for me 
to try to get the hang of what smart men have to 
go to college to learn, but I’m goin’ to keep on 
tryin’ so long as the Lord lets me live. P’r’aps if I 
keep on cornin’ here year after year I can go 
into the Greek class in the course of time. 
Poor Greeks ! They didn’t have no Chautauqua - 
to help ’em along ; but I have, bless the Lord ! 

“ ‘ I've reached — the land of corn — and wine, 

And all — its riches free — ly mine ; 

Here shines — undimmed one bliss — ful day, 

For all — my sins have, passed — away.’ 

Florinda, open that oven door an’ let the glory 
out — Pshaw ! I mean let me put these pans of 
bread in.” 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

GETTING DOWN TO BED ROCK. 

The only member of the Brinston class who 
seemed to regard unfavorably the plan of supple- 
menting at Chautauqua itself the work of the 
year was Mr. Broad. He had agreed to it to the 
extent of allowing his daughters to go there, but 
when he came to think the matter over and talk 
about it to some of his hard-headed friends, 
he blamed himself for undue haste. He had 
not been much about the world, not even about 
his own country, so he was dependent upon 
acquaintances for a great deal of information ; 
some of these acquaintances, belonging to the 
guild that spends most of its time “ on the road,” 
and knows little except by hearsay, had told him 
that Chautauqua was only another name for a 
long-protracted camp-meeting. Mr. Broad had 
[250] 



Gettmg Down to Bed-Rock. 


251 


known the wrong side of camp^-meetings very 
well in his younger days, so he started for Chau- 
tauqua in haste one afternoon to bring his 
daughters home. It was all right for Dawn, of 
course, if he chose, to have his daughter there ; 
his wife was there, and he expected to spend 
much time there himself, but no prolonged camp- 
meeting was a proper place for two girls like 
his, who were none too fond of study and 
a great deal too fond of gossip. There might 
be many opportunities for special study there. 
Mr. Broad did not doubt that there were, for 
Mr. Whitton, his pastor, had assured him that 
all of the instructors were members of the facul- 
ties of the best colleges in the land ; still, he 
had not forgotten the wisdom of the old saying 
that “ you may lead a horse to the water, but 
you can’t make him drink.” Then there was 
the programme of the entertainment ; he 
saw by the copy which his daughters sent him 
that there was something amusing or entertain- 
ing to be seen and enjoyed at frequent intervals 
throughout the day. Who, he asked himself, 
was going to study when there was so much 
opportunity for mental dissipation? 


252 


The Chautauquans. 


So to Chautauqua he went, with a great 
deal of doubt and suspicion in his heart, and he 
took the pfecaution to engage three chairs for 
the train that should return Brinstonward two 
days later. As his own train neared the lake, 
he began to look about him inquiringly and to 
ask questions of people on the train. When he 
boarded the boat which conveyed passengers 
from the railway station to the various villages 
on the shores of Lake Chautauqua, he felt some- 
what fatigued by his long ride; as he was not a 
total abstainer he sought the bar of the steamer. 
Failing to find it, he made inquiry of one of the 
deck hands. 

Guess you’ll have to put up with coffee,” 
was the reply. “ Nothin’ stronger sold on these 
boats.” 

Mr. Broad strolled forward and hid his disap- 
pointment in the smoke of a cigar, as he mur- 
mured to himself : 

“ That doesn’t sound much like the approach 
to a camp-meeting, any way.” 

In about half an hour he informed himself that 
the village the boat was approaching was the 
handsomest he had ever seen from the deck of a 


Getting Down to Bed-Rock. 


253 


steamboat. There is not in sight a single bit of 
bare, unsightly ground, or an ugly mill, or even 
an unpainted barn, such as disfigured the suburbs 
of towns in general. Buildings abounded ; indeed, 
they seemed to be about as close together as if 
there had been a great real estate boom in the 
not remote past, that had caused all the vacant 
lots to be bought up and improved. Brinston was 
a pretty town ; Broad thought he ought to know, 
for he had for successive years been president of 
the local improvement society,which bullied care- 
less natives into painting or whitewashing old 
buildings and into planting trees, but in the village 
before him all the trees appeared to have been 
planted at about the same time, and there didn’t 
seem to be any barns or shops. If, now, Chau- 
tauqua might be a place like that ! But no, he 
sighed to himself, all summer camps of serious- 
minded people were about as shabby to the eye 
as the mean end of Brinston. 

As the boat moved nearer, Mr. Broad made up 
his mind that this must be one of the summer 
villages which he heard co-operative clubs had 
formed ; it must be a young club and a lively one, 
too, for he saw scores of row-boats moored near 


254 


The Chautatiquans, 


shore, and scores more on the water. Then he 
saw several men and boys on bicycles, dashing 
over roads pleasingly laid out ; next he heard a 
brass band. 

‘‘ This is splendid !” said Mr. Broad to himself. 
‘T wish all Brinston could see this. Don’t seem 
to be any expensive houses or places, either; 
nothing is more than neat; still, if everything in 
the town buildings were neat, there’d be nothing 
to complain of.” 

He looked about for some one who could tell 
him the name of this model town, but, to his 
surprise, he had the deck almost to himself. It 
had been crowded a few moments before. Then 
light dawned upon him, and he muttered : 

“Broad, you’re a fool! The crowd’s gone 
below to get off. This is Chautauqua. Well, I 
wouldn’t have believed it !” 

He hired a small boy to guide him to the best 
hotel, for he saw signs indicating that entertain- 
ment for travelers was abundantly provided. 
The boy led him to a large hotel whose grounds 
swept down to the lake, and in the office of 
which women and children were more numerous 
than men. Again he was moved to ask the way 


Getting Dow 71 to Bed-Rock. 


255 


to the bar, and again he was disappointed. He 
afterward told Postmaster Brown that he did 
not suppose that a man who did not consume 
half a pint of liquor a year could be made to feel 
so uncomfortable and disreputable twice in the 
same half-hour. 

But time was money, so Mr. Broad hurried 
out to see the town. Attracted by a great buzz 
of conversation, he ascended the slope in front 
of the hotel to what seemed a big shed — the only 
unsightly edifice within range of his eye. When 
he reached it he stopped suddenly and started 
backward, for he found himself at the rail of the 
Auditorium, and below him, in a great semi-circle, 
were seated fully five thousand people, while 
others were pouring in through all the aisles, 
many of them carrying books and some bearing 
camp chairs or stools. 

“ What’s up ?” he asked of another man, who 
had approached with the air of one familiar with 
the place. The man leaned upon the rail and 
replied : 

“Lecture!” 

Then he pointed to the day’s programme, 
affixed to a column near them, and Mr. Broad 


256 


The Chautauquans. 


saw that the people were waiting for a lecture, 
which he had occasion to remember very well. 

“We had that very man and lecture in our 
town only a year and a half ago,” said he, “ and the 
chairman of the committee — that was me — who 
had selected him had the pleasure of paying about 
two-thirds of the fee out of his own pocket. 
Why, there weren’t forty people in the hall.” 

“Weren’t, eh.i^” said the person addressed. 
“Well, some towns are that way. In this place 
though, everybody has brains ; they wouldn’t 
come if they hadn’t.” 

There was something assuring in this, though 
the speech was not complimentary to Brinston. 
In a moment there was a stir on the platform 
and then in the audience, followed by a loud 
clapping of hands. 

“ He’s been here before, and you can see what 
they think of him. A good half of the people in 
the audience have been here before, too, and 
they’re the kind that have good memories. A 
full half of all the people in this town are under 
this roof at this very minute, and you can see 
lots more of them coming all the time!” 

It was true, and Mr, Broad wondered greatly. 


JOE HELD HER HAND A MOMENT LONGER THAN WAS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. 

—See Page 306. 





Getting Down to Bed-Rock. 


r *7 
^ J / 


He did not listen very attentively to the lecture 
for it awoke painful memories in one of the 
most sensitive parts of his organization — his 
pocket. He found occupation and interest, 
however, in studying the audience. He was 
obliged to admit to himself that it was a good 
collection of faces. There were very few people 
as well-dressed as those who had attended the 
Same lecture at Brinston ; there were many who 
looked as if they had not often the price of a 
lecture to spare, but all were listening atten- 
tively. Something about the crowd seemed 
unlike lecture audiences in general, and the 
observer at last discovered that there was not 
a fringe of young men looking to see what 
young women were in attendance. He won- 
dered if his own daughters were there ; he had 
determined to look the place over before going 
to their boarding-house, yet he longed to see 
their faces, now that he and they were in the 
same town. To find two faces among five or six 
thousand was no easy matter, but by sys- 
tematic work the father finally discovered his 
daughters. Contrary to his expectation, they 
were not looking about the audience to see 


258 


The Chant aiiqumis. 


what other young women were wearing, and 
who had come with whom ; both were looking 
at the lecturer, and between them — Mr. Broad 
could scarcely believe his eyes — sat Florinda 
Purkis ! 

“ Who are all the people with books in their 
hands?” he asked the man beside him; “excuse 
me this once, and Pll promise not to bother you 
with any more questions.” 

They’re students,” was the reply. “ Some 
are from the college and the others from the 
twenty or more schools scattered all over the 
town. They teach pretty much everything here, 
and the beauty of it is, that nearly all the stu- 
dents are grown folks without a bit of nonsense 
about them. They learn as much in a month 
here as boys and girls in college get out of a 
whole term. They work so hard for a few hours 
every day that they need something like this to 
break the strain. Of course, there are some 
folks here who don’t use their brains much, but 
they’re to be pitied, for it’s no place for a fool. 
You seem to be a stranger here; you’ve heard 
this lecture before ; so have 1 ; suppose I show 


Getting Down to Bed-Rock, 


259 


you around a little, if you think it would interest 
you?” 

“ I’d be very much obliged,” said Mr. Broad. 
“ I thought I knew a great deal about it when I 
came, but my ideas are a good deal shaken up.” 

“Umph! Most peopie’s are. There’s some 
things that a man can’t know much about until 
he sees them, and Chautauqua is one of them.” 

Then Mr. Broad’s new acquaintance strolled 
about, showing the manufacturer the various 
schools and explaining their scope ; showed him 
the temple, and told how the small boys and girls 
of the town were kept quiet for an hour or two 
a day, and sent away with some new ideas in 
their heads and the impression that they had 
been having rather a good time ; showed 
him the hall of philosophy, where something 
was going on at most hours of the day ; told him 
of how many different audiences the auditorium 
held between early morn and late eve; told him 
of the restrictions against nuisances, and showed 
him the great fence which inclosed the place so 
jealously that no one could even enter the grounds 
without passing inspection by a gate-keeper who 
was expert in sizing-up human nature. 


26 o 


The Chautauquans. 


“ The best safeguard, though,” said he, “ is 
that there’s nothing, nobody, here to attract 
undesirable characters. There’s no place for 
them to stay. You’ll find every boarding-house 
is crowded with people who engaged their rooms 
months ago, and the big hotel is fixed in the 
same way. A man can’t get a drink for love or 
money ; a party of young people can’t even get 
up a dance here. We don’t say that everything 
we forbid is wrong, but we do say that by draw- 
ing the lines very close we keep away every class 
but that which we want. A great many transient 
visitors come here for a day at a time to enjoy 
the entertainments we give in the Auditorium, 
but there’s nothing about them that we need be 
afraid of. We don’t give anything in the slight- 
est degree attractive to undesirable people, or 
even to those who are very gay, though you can 
hear more hearty laughter here, any day of the 
season, than 1 ever heard in a seaside village or 
other summer resort. Keep your ears open and 
see if you don’t agree with me.” 

“This thing costs a tremendous amount of 
money,” said Broad, who was mentally estimat- 


Gettmg Down to Bed-Rock. 


261 


ing the expense of everything he saw and heard 
of. “ How do you get it?” 

“ By a system of fees that are so light that 
nobody ever feels his own share of them. It’s a 
big contract; it costs more and more every year; 
but the money is always forthcoming, and it 
will continue to come, even if the place grows to 
ten times its present size. There’s no likeli- 
hood of its doing that, though ; for in order to 
give the same sort of opportunities to Chau- 
tauquans everywhere, we have started similar 
gathering places in other States until there are 
about fifty, each of them growing in attendance 
every 3’ear, and having the best teachers and 
entertainments that money can buy.” 

Mr. Broad had forgotten for an hour the 
purpose of his coming. He was filled with ad- 
miration, and he wanted to say an encouraging 
word to his man, who seemed to have the in- 
stitution in a warm place in his heart ; so he ex- 
claimed : 

“ This is the greatest thing I ever heard of, and 
I’ve heard a great deal. I’m a man of affairs 
myself, sir, and I tell you that you may rest as- 
sured that it is one of the great things of the 


26? 


The Chautauquans. 


world. Allow me to give you my business card, 
sir ; you’ll find, if you make inquiries, that I 
always mean what Isay. I repeat, sir, that this is 
one of the great things of the world.” 

Glad you think so,” said the volunteer guide, 
glancing at the card. . “ The President of the 
United States said the same thing a few days 
ago ; indeed, every President, since this place 
was started, has said about the same thing.” 

Then Broad wished he had not put on quite 
so important an air, but his new acquaintance 
quickly turned the subject, and said : 

“ Here’s an illustration of how the place 
works on strangers. See those two young 
women coming toward us? Pshaw! there’s a 
crowd stopping right in front of them. It’s no 
matter as to the particular couple, though ; 
they’re like a good many others. They came 
here two or three weeks ago, and made them- 
selves noticed by the critical way which they 
showed toward everything and everybody. 
Our people are quiet enough and don’t expect 
to be admired, but they’re quick enough to 
notice any sneers or other signs of disapproval. 
Well, everything here seemed so funny, or 


Getting Down to Bed-Rock, 263 


something, I don’t know what, that those 
young women’s noses were turned up most of 
the time, except when some of the entertain- 
ments were going on. I suppose, to do them 
justice, they’d been used to a great deal of com- 
pany, while here the people have something to 
do most of the time. Well, they got acquainted 
with one of my daughters — she’s a pleasant- 
looking girl and as bright as they make them, 
though I do say it, and she’s as busy as a bee in 
the clover-blossom season. She didn’t do any 
preaching and proselyting — I’m down on that 
sort of thing — I believe in teaching by example 
— but finally these girls couldn’t help being in- 
terested in what she was doing. Well, sir, 
within a week the girls had taken up so many 
studies that my daughter had to beg them to go 
slow. Even now they’re two of the brightest and 
hardest students here. Ah — here they are ! I 
wish I knew them, and I’d introduce you.” 

The young women alluded to stopped sud- 
denly, as if something had frightened them ; then 
both stepped up to Mr. Broad, and with one 
voice exclaimed : 

Why, father !” 


264 


The Chatitauquans. 


“ Great Scott !” exclaimed Mr. Broad’s vol- 
unteer guide, looking around as if in search of 
something to hide behind ; “ I don’t know how I 
could have made such a blunder, I knew their 
names — I noticed your name on your card, but 
I never thought — ” 

Oh, father,” exclaimed the elder Miss Broad, 
“ this is the most wonderful place that ever 
was !” 

There seems to be unanimity of opinion in 
your family on that subject,” said the embar- 
rassed man to Mr. Broad. ‘‘ Well, as you seem 
to be in very good hands now. I’ll ask you to 
excuse me while I drop down home. Good- 
day.” 

“ That’s a remarkably clever fellow,” said Mr. 
Broad, as the man’s broad shoulders disappeared 
in the- throng of people who were going in every 
direction from the Auditorium. 

Indeed he is,” one of the girls replied. “ He 
is one of the makers of Chautauqua.” 

“ What ! Why, he didn’t act as if he was 
any one in particular. If I had had any 
share in the getting up of a thing like this, I 


Comparing Notes. 


265 


would see that everybody 1 met should know it. 
I don’t intend to hide my light under a bushel.” 

“ His isn’t hidden, either,” said the daughter. 
“ Every one who ever heard of Chautauqua has 
heard of him. But, father, what put you up to 
coming here ?” 

“ I came here, my child,” said Mr. Broad, with 
deliberate accents, “ because I was an old fool. 
Don’t be frightened, though ; I’m cured.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

COMPARING NOTES. 

When Mr. Dawn heard that his old friend Broad 
had gone to Chautauqua, he promptly announced 
that he had business in that part of the State and 
might drop in at Chautauqua while he was 
away. As his wife and daughter were away, 
and he had to unload his mind upon somebody, 
he hurried down to the post-office and then 
waited patiently until a whole storeful of cus- 
tomers was disposed of, before he asked Brown 


266 


The Chautauquans. 


whether he didn’t envy him his chance of seeing 
Broad in the presence of something new. 

“ Indeed I do,” was the reply. ‘‘ If my two 
boys were home, or even one of them. I’d will- 
ingly lose some business by running up there 
with you. Broad is a good fellow and a square 
man ; people in this town won’t know all his 
good qualities until he’s dead ; but I don’t know 
anybody who’s in greater need of some new 
ideas from people whom he isn’t used to facing 
down. If he doesn’t find them up there I miss 
my guess. I’m keeping pretty closely informed 
about what’s going on at Chautauqua ; my boys 
send me the Assembly Herald every day, and I 
make it my business to read it through, even if 
I have to neglect the daily papers. Gracious ! 
How I do envy both of you your chances ! I 
didn’t suppose, up to this time, that any place, 
not a large city, was visited by so many people 
who amount to a good deal.” 

“ Maybe Broad won’t be able to meet many of 
them,” suggested the visitor. 

“ Don’t you believe it. Broad won’t doubt fora 
moment that he’s as big a man as anybody there, 
and by the time he finds out his mistake he’ll 


Comparing Notes. 


267 


have got pretty well acquainted. The boys 
write me that it’s one of those places where 
everybody comes to know everybody else pretty 
quickly ; the old members make it their business 
to make people acquainted so that they feel at 
home. If there wasn’t anything else to be 
gained by the trip, I should be glad that the 
boys went for the sake of the acquaintances they 
have already made. They may never meet 
them again, but it’s done them a lot of good to 
see new f^ces and be put to their own best wits. 
Life in small towns has its advantages ; it suits 
me so well that I’m satisfied to live and die 
here ; but I’ve seen something of the world and 
the boys haven’t.” 

Mr. Dawn, found, on arriving at Chautauqua, 
that his old neighbor was at the hotel, the Purkis 
boarding-house being full to overflowing. He 
was very glad to see his own family, and was 
greatly interested in their reports of what they 
had seen and done ; but he made an early excuse 
to hurry to the hotel. No search was necessary 
to find Broad ; the magnate of Brinston was 
occupying two chairs on the piazza and unburden- 
ing his mind on the state of the country, his only 


268 


The Chautauquans. 


hearer being a quiet-looking man whom Dawn 
was sure he had seen somewhere before. Broad 
looked so natural — so like the new-comer 
expected to find him, that Dawn stood aside to 
enjoy the familiar spectacle and listen to the 
opinions he had heard many, many times before. 
He was soon discovered, however, and while 
the two acquaintances exchanged greetings, the 
man who had been listening arose from his chair 
and sauntered away. 

‘‘Well, Broad,” said Dawn, after answering a 
few questions about things at home, “ when you 
do chance to become acquainted with a dis- 
tinguished man you needn’t be so stuck up that 
you can’t introduce a respectable friend.” 

“Eh? What are you driving at ?” 

“Why, the man you just frightened away by 
not having the manners to introduce your 
friend.” 

“Why, I didn’t know him myself. We were 
both sitting smoking, and chanced to drop into 
a chat about politics.” 

“ Didn’t you know him ? Why, man alive, 
who have you always said was the only member 


Co77iparing Notes. 


269 


of your party with brains enough to make a 
proper President of the United States?” 

“ What !” shouted the manufacturer ; then he 
dropped into a chair, offered Dawn a cigar and 
a light, leaned over and murmured: “Dawn, 
I’ve been doing that sort of thing ever since I 
came here. I like the place so well that I can’t 
tear myself away, but I’ll be the common 
laughing-stock if I don’t learn to keep my mouth 
shut. So I’ve been trying to set that man 
right on national politics ! And he heard me 
through, and didn’t once tell me how little I 
knew! Well, I always did say that he was a 
gentleman as well as a statesman.” 

Mr. Dawn kept a straight face, but he made a 
mental note to write the postmaster by the very 
first mail. Finally he asked: 

“ Well, what do you think of the place and 
everything in it? You’ve been here fully forty- 
eight hours, so, of course, you know it all !” 

“ Dawn,” said Broad, laying a large hand on 
his neighbor’s knee, “ it’s the greatest thing on 
the face of the world— you may take my word 
lor that, but I don’t know anything about it.” 

Dawn laughed ; it was the first time in his 


The Chautauquans. 


270 

life that he had known his neighbor to confess 
ignorance of anything. 

“Don’t laugh!” Broad exclaimed. “You’ll 
feel the same way when you’ve been here as 
long as I have. 1 really didn’t suppose there were 
as many smart men in these United States as I 
have met in two days in this little place away out 
of the world in the woods between two lakes.” 

“Umph! How do you find the place other- 
wise ? As much like a big camp-meeting as you 
expected ?” 

“ Camp-meeting ? No ; nothing like it in any 
particular, except that all the people profess to 
be religious, as a good many folks at camp- 
meeting don’t. AYhy, Dawn, I haven’t seen a 
loafer since I’ve been here — religious loafer or 
any other kind. You know how it is at 
camp-meetings ; there’s always mixed up with 
the sincere people, a lot of folks who just 
stand around and wait for the awakening of 
the spirit, or something else, they scarcely 
know what, except they know it isn’t to be 
themselves, if they have to do the waking. 
Well, there’s so few people of that kind here 
that they’re curiosities — yes, sir, actually curi- 


Comparing Notes, 


271 


osities. Of course, there are any number of 
transient visitors, just like me, who are look- 
ing on to see what it’s all about, but everybody 
else is hard at work at something or other — 
generally on more different things than I ever 
could study at a time in school. You must go 
into some of the classes here, and see for your- 
self ; I’m afraid if I were to tell you how they 
impressed me you’d think I’d lost my head. I 
tell you, sir, I always thought our local circle 
was one of the wonders of the world — a lot of 
men, women and half-grown children studying 
together ; but here — why, there’s nobody in 
Brinston who looks as if he had gone through so 
much for the sake of learning something as some 
of these people. We never had any idea of tak- 
ing in any of the farming people around the 
country near us, but lots of the students here are 
farmers and their wives, and you can see by the 
very ends of their fingers that they never got 
here without doing an awful lot of extra work 
at home, and that they’re thinking a good deal of 
the time about the work they haven’t done or 
have left in younger hands and on weaker shoul- 
ders. I’ve seen a good many people suffer in 


272 The Chautauquans, 

one way and another, since I became a man, and 
I’ve been very sorry for them, but I never knew 
how deeply my heart could be touched until I 
came here and saw what was going on in some 
people’s faces. It makes me feel ashamed of 
myself in a good many ways. I don’t want to 
pry into other people’s affairs, as I find 
myself doing without meaning it, for there’s 
lots of folks here who appear to carry a good 
deal of heart in their faces. I suppose it’s 
because there’s a good deal more than can be 
accommodated inside. Besides, I can’t help 
feeling mean when I see folks, who don’t look as 
if they had any natural head piece, going right 
along and learning a great deal more than I 
know, or show any likelihood of knowing. I 
can stand it to find a college president or cabinet 
officer knowing more than I ; but when it comes 
to a common looking farmer or his common 
looking wife, I tell you it’s tough.” 

As Broad paused a moment, Dawn looked at 
him curiously, and shook his head wonderingly. 
Broad continued : 

“ I find by scraping acquaintance with some 
of these people and asking them questions, that 


Comparing Notes. 273 

every one of them got their first notion of catch- 
ing up with the world by going into local circles 
just like ours, in different parts of the country. 
Some of them graduated years ago, and haven’t 
stopped studying yet ; they come here year after 
year, start a new study or two each time in the 
summer schools the town is full of, and plod along 
at them during the rest of the year at home. 
Why, Dawn, this society of which our circle is 
a member is going to make a generation of Elihu 
Burritts — you remember him ? — the learned 
blacksmith who got the better part of his edu- 
cation while he was working with his hands, and 
continued studying all his life? He never forgot 
anything that he learned after he grew up, and 
these people promise to be just like him. I’ve 
asked a lot of them about it, and they say that 
that’s the cheeringest thing in the world in their 
study — that what they learn, now that they are 
men and women, sticks to them, instead of flying 
away to meet^most of whatever they learned 
when they were young ones in school. 

“ As for the women — well, I don’t mind saying 
to you in strict confidence — for goodness’ sake 
don’t ever let it get out in Brinston — that except 


2 74 Chautauquafis, 

for my wife that was, and your wife, and my 
girls and yours, I haven’t ever had much 
respect for women’s brains. The sex has lots of 
good points, but it never seemed to me that 
brains was one of them. Well, sir, just you go 
around some morning and stand within hearing 
distance of one of the meetings of the Women’s 
Club. Nobody you see going in or coming out 
looks like anybody in particular, but those 
women talk about pretty much everything that’s 
interesting; a good many of them talk, and all 
of them do it well. Why, sir, if it wasn’t for the 
voices and dresses, you might think the speakers 
were men — yes, sir, men, they’re so sensible. I’ve 
asked my girls about it, expecting to see their 
noses turn up, they being in the habit of thinking 
small things of anybody and everybody who 
don’t wear pretty good clothes, which some of 
these women don’t, but they’re as surprised as I 
am — and just about as jealous, too.” 

Dawn listened respectfully, although greatly 
amused. When at last Broad lapsed into silence, 
and looked as if there was a great deal more on 
his mind, his neighbor asked : 

“ Well, what do you propose to do about it?” 


Comparing Notes. 


275 


“Do? Why, do you imagine for a minute 
that Fm going to have a lot of common folks get 
ahead of me ? No, sir ! Of course, I don’t mean 
that common folks are the only ones that’s 
studying, for there’s just as many of the other 
kind. But what Fm driving at is this: If these 
mechanics and farmers, who haven’t any more 
time to spare than I have, and nowhere near as 
much money, are succeeding by this method in 
getting a lot of knowledge in place of the mere 
lot of opinions that they’ve been satisfied with 
for all their lives, why—” 

“Ah! You’ve discovered the difference 
between knowledge and mere opinions, have 
you?” said Dawn. 

“Yes, I have,” was the reply, accompanied by 
a shame-faced flush, “ and I wish you wouldn’t 
put on airs because you happened to learn it 
before me. Pshaw! What were we talking 
about ? Oh, yes ; if these people can pick up so 
much of the learning that makes some folks a 
good deal smarter than their neighbors, I pro- 
pose to do it, too. I don’t like it a bit, much as 
I enjoy Chautauqua, to find a lot of folks 
together talking about something as if they 


276 


The Chautauquans, 


understood it, while all I can do is to stand still 
and listen. Fm no fool, and I don’t like to 
appear like one.” 

Dawn listened and looked at his neighbor 
with extreme interest, and at last he said, 
although ashamed of himself immediately after- 
ward : 

Broad, until this moment I always supposed 
you knew everything — or thought you did.” 

“ I always thought,” retorted Broad, “ that 
you were too much of a man to hit a fellow 
when he was down. If I hadn’t supposed you 
had the instincts of a gentleman, I wouldn’t have 
put my heart on my sleeve before you.” 

Then it was Dawn’s turn to flush. 


CHAPTER XX. 

HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

Before Mrs. Purkis had been a month at Chau- 
tauqua she became noticeably thoughtful and 
abstracted ; so much so that Mrs. Dawn, who 


Husbands and Wives, 


277 


was observing her closely, and with much 
womanly tenderness and sympathy, became 
troubled about her. 

“Alice,” said Mrs. Dawn to her daughter, 
“ that poor woman is killing herself with work 
at home and over books.” 

“ I suppose,” the girl replied, “ that she is 
trying to get enough of heaven in two months 
to last her through the ten that must follow. 
Poor thing !” 

“Don’t take the trouble to pity her, my dear; 
she’s happier than words can tell. My only fear 
is that so much work and exaltation combined 
will be too much for her, and make her break 
down physically. She will remain happy, no 
matter how sick she may get, but I want to 
prevent her breaking down and falling ill, if 
only that she may continue to make and save 
money.” 

“Are the beds as well made as usual?” asked 
Mrs. Dawn’s husband, who overheard the con- 
versation. 

“ Oh, yes.” 

“Meals as well cooked and served?” 

“ Quite as well.” 


278 


The Chautauquans. 


“ Better,” added Alice. “ Mother and I and 
the Broad girls were talking about the house- 
keeping only a few days ago, and we agreed 
that it improved steadily. It was fair from the 
start ; better than servants ever did for us when 
mother chanced to be away and before I learned 
to manage the house.” 

‘‘Umph! Does Mrs. Purkis lose her temper 
and say ugly things to any of the boarders?” 

“ Never.” 

“ Hasn’t complained that there’s very little 
money in boarders?” 

-No.” 

“ Then she isn’t breaking down. It’s far more 
likely there’s something on her mind.” 

- It’s the Greek lessons, mother, without 
doubt,” said Alice. - When I was at the semin- 
ary I used to notice that the four girls who con- 
stituted the whole Greek class were the solemn 
est-looking quartette in school; they looked as 
grave and vacant-minded as a cage of owls I 
once saw at Central Park, in New York, though 
they were the life of the school before they took 
up Greek.” 

- Then ’tisn’t Greek that’s troubling her,” said 


Husbands arid Wives. 


279 

Mrs. Dawn, “ for though she seems in a brown 
study at times she’s never vacant-minded. I 
know that the trouble can’t be financial, for she 
told me, the last time I paid her, that she didn’t 
know but her prices were too high, for she was 
almost frightened at the amount of money she 
was ‘ laying by.’ ” 

Perhaps she is troubled about her soul,” sug- 
gested the husband. “ Has there been an old- 
fashioned Methodist revival meeting here?” 

** No ; all the religious services are undenom- 
inational. Mrs. Purkis attends many of them, 
but they make her happy — not miserable. 
She’s singing cheerful hymns almost ever}^ hour 
of the day.” 

“ Well, my dear,” said the head of the family, 
“ if a woman is in good bodily and spiritual 
health, and isn’t troubled about money matters, 
or overworked enough to be cross, there’s but 
one thing else that can lie heavily on her mind. 
I flatter myself that you can guess what it is, if 
you try.” 

“ I give it up,” said Mrs. Dawn, after puzzling 
her wits a moment. “ What is it?’’ 


28 o 


The Chautauquans. 


“ Modesty forbids me to say,” the husband 
replied. 

I do believe father means that Mrs. Purkis is 
thinking about her husband,” said Alice. 

“I declare!” exclaimed Mrs. Dawn. “Quite 
likelv that is it. To be sure, I can’t for the life 
of me imagine anything interesting about that 
stupid, insignificant fellow.” 

“ It isn’t at all necessary that you should, my 
dear, for you’re not married to him. But if you 
were, J^nd had suddenly found everything about 
you more delightful than you’d ever known 
before, you’d probably wish him with you, to 
help you enjoy it.” 

“ Father talks as if such people had as fine 
feelings as any one else,” remarked Alice, with 
an amused laugh. 

“ Father is right about it, too, little girl,” said 
Dawn, “and — to quote an injunction which 
your brother has picked up in the street and 
used a great deal at home — ‘ Don’t you forget 
it !’ If you do, you’ll never be fair to human 
nature in general.” 

“ But, father,” protested the daughter, “ the 
idea of Mrs, Purkis — ” 


Htishmids and Wives. 


281 


“Just so; because Mrs. Purkis is old and 
homely and awkward and badly dressed, and 
has always been poor and the wife of a shiftless 
man, and has two rather stupid, shame-faced 
daughters, you think she hasn’t any of the nat- 
ural feelings of a woman. You’re immensely 
mistaken ; that husband of hers is all she has, 
except her girls, and I’ll warrant that she’s think- 
ing of him most of the time and wishing he was 
here with her.’’ 

Alice laughed, but her mother’s cheek flushed 
as her eyes looked approvingly on her own hus- 
band, who continued : 

“ Daughter, dear, you know that poor old 
woman only by appearances ; you’ve no knowl- 
edge of what there may be in her blood waiting 
for a chance to come out. 1 don’t imagine you 
and your mother will ever care to have her assist 
at your receptions at home, but dress and grace 
and manners aren’t all of woman’s life. Some 
of us men in Brinston have a great deal more 
respect for her than for some acquaintances of 
our own wives. She has always been a hard 
worker; that means that she’s inherited some 
very good blood from some one. There are 


282 


The Chautauquans. 


hundreds of thousands just such women in the 
United States— more probably than in all the rest 
of the world, for all classes have been mixed in 
marriage here, and you never can tell when some- 
thing very good will come out of unpromising 
stock. More than one President of the United 
States has come out of families as ‘ low down’ as 
the Purkises. I don’t imagine, Madison, her hus- 
band, will ever reach the chair of the man for 
whom he was named, but don’t forget that one 
women as poor and inconspicuous as Mrs. 
Purkis, once taught reading and writing after 
marriage to her husband, who afterwards 
became President of the United States. Such 
people, or such of them as have the stuff in them, 
remind me of the ragged pasture which Darwin 
once wrote about. There had been no trees on 
it within the memory of man, and all the cattle 
of the village grazed on it ; but when part 
of it was fenced there suddenly sprang up hun- 
dreds of remarkably sturdy young oaks. Dar- 
win, as puzzled as any one, began to investigate. 
Me scratched about with pick and shovel in 
the unfenced portion of the pasture, and found 
the soil was full of oak roots and crowns. No 


Httsbands and Wives, 


283 


sooner did a tiny leaf make its way to the sur- 
face than it was nibbled off or trampled down, but 
when the destroying influence was removed, and 
nature had its way, those roots began to make 
up for lost time. Mrs. Purkis is just such a case. 
Our Chautauqua Circle at home gave some of 
her long-suppressed impulses a chance, and 
what she sees and hears here is continuing the 
good work. I see all classes of people here, and 
all of them improving themselves ; but those 
who are getting the most good out of it all are 
people like Mrs. Purkis — those who have the 
growing impulse but have long been kept down 
by the circumstances of their daily lives. Of 
course, those who haven’t the impulse born in 
them, or in whom it hasn’t been placed by exam- 
ple or other means, will not accomplish anything. 
You’ll -remember that many intelligent people 
dropped out of the Brinston Circle as soon as 
the charm of novelty was gone, but the remain- 
der will yet prove themselves the best stock in 
the town.” 

What a long lecture!” exclaimed Alice. 

“Yes, and as sensible as it is long,” said the 


204 


The Chautauquans, 


girl’s mother. Poor Mrs. Purkis ! I suppose 
she does want to see her husband.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Dawn were right. Mrs. Purkis 
was planning to get her husband to Chautauqua. 
She felt that she could afford to send for him 
and support him, but she dreaded the result of 
his losing the habit of work, which she did not 
believe had become sufficiently “ fixed ” to safely 
endure a break. She had tried unsuccessfully to 
devise ways of making him useful in the house ; 
then she had gone to nearly every one who 
employed male help in the village. Finally she 
succeeded in finding some one who wanted a 
man to do some hard work at small pay. Then 
she wrote her husband and Postmaster Brown, 
and two days later Madison Purkis was in the 
bosom of his family, and much amazed at his new 
surroundings. 

“ You and the girls all in clean, white dresses !” 
he exclaimed. “ Running about as good-looking 
a house as there is in Brinston ; your hair fixed 
up nice ; carpets on the floors ; first-class victuals 
and plenty of ’em ? Great Scott !” 

“That isn’t all, Madison,” said the wife. 
“ There’s none of our old kind in the town; 


Husbands and Wives. 


285 

ev’rybody treats ev’rybody else respectably, 
because there ain’t s’posed to be but one kind of 
folk here. You’ll be ‘ Mr.’ to ev’rybody thatyou 
get acquainted with. Gracious ! my ears are 
just achin’ to hear you spoke to that way ! Hold 
your head up now, Madison ; you don’t need to 
put on any airs, but be sure not to let yourself 
seem to be commoner than anybody else. 
Mebbe you can’t talk as well as some that you 
meet, but you can do the next best thing ; you 
can keep your mouth shut, an’ then nobody ’ll 
take you for a fool. Don’t bother yourself to 
express your own idees ; this is a place to get 
idees ; the folks that started this place an’ run it, 
are supplyin’ idees all day long faster’n you an’ 
I together can take ’em in. Now if you want to 
go off an’ engage a boat, there’s a woman you 
used to be sweet on who wouldn’t mind bein’ 
took out rowin’ on the lake between supper and 
concert time. After dinner I want to go out 
with you an’ show you what sort of a place this 
town is. You can’t go to work to-day, so I want 
you to know how much there is here that’s worth 
workin’ for.” 

Arm in arm the couple strolled about the town. 


286 


The Chautauquans. 


which from any point of view looks like a park, 
the alternate squares being covered with large 
trees under which the sod is level and the grass 
green — a park which, nevertheless, is more 
thickly populated in summer than any other vil- 
lage of its size in the world. From any street 
crossing they could see the beautiful lake ; no- 
where did they lack the shade and breeze so 
comforting in mid-summer. There were no 
“ bad streets,” no corner loafers, no rum-shops, 
no nuisances. They stopped at the,great amphi- 
theatre and heard a lecture so full of fun that 
they and everybody else laughed a great deal. 
Then they stolled to the tennis courts, looked 
at the playing awhile, and went on to the ball 
grounds. Purkis got into trouble on his return 
to Brinston, all on account of that trip; for when 
he told a crowd of the village boys that he had 
seen an exciting game with at least two thousand 
spectators, yet didn’t hear any swearing or bet- 
ting, he had to call on Mr. Dawn, Joe Warren 
and the Brown boys to prove his veracity. 

During the tour of the town Purkis was silence 
itself; his wife was the reverse. While supper 
was being prepared and served, Purkis strolled 


Husbands and Wives. 


287 


about once more, and was self-contained while 
he ate his own supper. He escorted his wife 
to the boat, and, as he pulled away, he became 
himself again, for among the institutions which 
were popular at Chautauqua, oars were entirely 
within his comprehension, for he had done much 
rowing and fishing at home. He rapidly looked 
right and left as he rowed, for the water near 
shore was full of boats rowed by men, women 
and children, but when well out toward the 
middle of the lake his eyes rested upon his wife. 
He rowed more slowly and finally stopped his 
oars. Could that pleasant-faced woman, with 
glow in her cheeks and light in her eyes, be the 
tired wife, old wife, who had left Brinston less 
than a month before ? She looked happy ; she 
looked almost young. When she chanced to 
turn her head toward him she smiled and asked: 

“ What are you thinkin’ about, Madison?” 

“ TvA^enty years or more ago, sis,” said the 
oarsman. 

“Bless you !” murmured the woman. 

“You look 'most as young as you did then — 
an’ a lot nicer,” said the husband. 

“ If you’d seen yourself when you was pullin’ 


288 


The Chautauqtians. 


out from shore you’d have been too stuck up to 
live,” the wife replied. 

“ Maria,” said the oarsman, “ don’t begin to 
make fun of me. I haven’t been here long 
enough to feel used to it.” 

“ I’m not makin’ fun, Madison ; it’s true.” 

“ Must be somethin’ peculiar about Chautau- 
qua air, then,” said the husband. 

“Was it Chautauqua air. I’d like to know, 
that put you up to makin’ that pretty speech to 
me a minute or two ago ?” 

“ Why, no ; leastways, I meant just what I 
said. It might have been the air, though.” 

“ I wish I knew, Madison, because — ” Then 
Mrs. Purkis looked aside a moment, smiled, 
looked across the lake, up the slope of the 
hills to the sky, and resumed : “ If it was, I 

wish I could stay here forever.” 

“ So do I — that is, if you’re going on looking 
younger and happier, as you’ve been doing ever 
since we got into the boat, an’ make me think of 
old times again.” 

“ It’s a great place, Madison.” 

“ I’m ready to take your word for it, sis ; I 
feel like somebody else, though I haven’t been 


Husbands a7id Wives. 


289 


here but a few hours. I don’t know why it is ; I 
haven’t spoken to hardly anybody, and nobody’s 
spoken to me, except the folks that came from 
Brinston ; but somehow they don’t look and 
talk exactly like they did at home — not to me, 
anyhow.” 

“ I hope you won’t change your mind when 
to-morrow comes and you have to go to work, 
Madison.” 

“ No danger. 1 should think work would 
’pear like play in a place like this.” 

“ ’Twon’t, though ; I’ve tried it, an’ I know. 
But there’s a good deal of difference ; it’s no 
matter how tired you get, if you know there’ll 
be something to enjoy after it’s all done for the 
day, and there always is that to expect here.” 

“ I’ll take your word for it, sis, and I’ll do 
two days’ work in one, and never grumble a 
bit, as long as the place goes on making my 
wife her old self again. I’ll work all day just 
for the pay of lookin’ at you in the evenin’.” 

“ Madison ! Do you know you’re talkin’ kind 
o’ silly ?” 

“ Am, eh ? You didn’t look at it that way 


290 


The Chaufauquans. 


when 1 said about the same thing, more’n 
twenty years ago." 

“ No ; nor I don’t now ; it only seems as if it 
must be foolish for folks as old as us to be talkin’ 
that way.” 

“ We’re not as old as the Dawns — not by 
several years — yet they always act and look as 
if they was as fond of each other as they ever 
was when they were younger.’’ 

“ Yes,’’ assented Mrs. Purkis, as she fell to 
musing. Her husband eyed her keenly for 
several minutes, rowing slowly while he looked ; 
then he queried : 

Well V 

“ They’re different from us, Madison. They 
haven’t had all the spirits taken out of ’em by 
hard work an’ disappointment an’ worry.’’ 

“ Well, sis,’’ said the husband, after a little 
musing of his own, “ if love don’t mean any- 
thing but young spirits, it’s an infernal humbug, 
and anybody that takes to it is to be pitied. I 
haven’t ever been the man I should, though I’ve 
been tryin’ awful hard these past few months ; 
but there never was a time when my worst 
trouble wasn’t that I wasn’t showin’ proper love 


Husbands and Wives. 


291 


for you, and that when I did try to be my best self 
in that way again you didn’t seem to have any 
patience with me. I’ve always wanted to get a 
good move on me, and take better care of you, and 
give you a better house to live in an’ better 
clothes to wear, an’ 1 know I’d have got along 
better at it a great deal of the time if it hadn’t 
seemed as if you didn’t care for me any more, 
except accordin’ as to what I brought home. . It 
helps a husband along, sis, even when he doesn’t 
deserve it, to have a feeling that his wife cares 
somethin’ for him.” 

“ Madison, goodness knows I haven’t had much 
else to care about. I do believe you’ve been 
blind.” 

'‘Well, sis, I don’t think so, though mebbe I 
have. I hain’t been hard of bearin’, though, an’ I 
don’tremember your sayin’ anythin’ in a long time 
that sounded as if — I’m not sayin’ that I deserved 
to hear anythin’ ol the kind, though. I’m only 
sayin’ that ’twould have been a great help.” 

“ Madison, I always did love you ; I’m sdre 
I’d have died if I didn’t, much as I loved the 
gals, too, although they was awful tryin’ a good 
deal of the time.” 


292 


The Chautauquans, 


“ ril take your word for it, sis, but I was too 
thick-headed to see it. Tve been workin’ like a 
slave the past few months; sometimes I’ve felt 
as if I’d drop down dead. .But I’ve stuck to it. 
There’s been a good many reasons — the havin’ 
more to eat an’ wear, and bein’ treated better by 
folks generally, an’ seein’ my wife a mite less 
troubled sometimes ; but the great thing of all 
that kept me up to the work was what you said 
the night of that first Chautauqua meetin’ in 
Brinston, or along about that time. You said : 
‘ Madison, I’m proud of you that was what put 
me on my feet so I couldn’t be knocked off 
again. Gosh !” 

Words seemed unequal to the further expres- 
sion of Mr. Purkis’s sentiments, so he bent over 
the oars and gave so mighty a pull that his wife 
was nearly thrown backward out of the boat. 
He maintained the stroke until his wife, who 
was regarding him worshipfully, remarked 
softly : 

Don’t split that shore of the lake open with 
the boat, Madison. Turn around and go out to 
the middle again ; there’s too many other boats 


Husbands and Wives. 


293 


along here. I want to talk to you where nobody 
can listen — and where nobody can see.” 

The love-talk of middle-aged married people 
does not look well on paper ; as for that, neither 
does any other love talk that is genuine. Like 
prayer, it must be in seclusion to be at its best. 
As the Purkis boat was slowly pulled homeward 
it passed a skiff in which were Joe Warren and 
Alice Dawn. 

“ Upon my word !” exclaimed Joe, “ I’ve seen 
atmospheric effects work wonders when there 
was reflection from water to help them, but to- 
night they beat all — they are making Mr. and 
Mrs. Purkis absolutely handsome.” 

“ They are handsome,” said the girl, who had 
been looking at them curiously for several 
moments. Then she recalled some of her father’s 
remarks of a day or two before, and continued : 
“ Their better nature has come to the surface, 
thanks to Chautauqua.” 



CHAPTER XXL 

THROUGH OTHER PEOPLE’S EYES. 

There must have been something unusual in 
the faces as well as the hearts of Mr. and Mrs. 
Purkis, during their boating on the lake, for Joe 
Warren, who was out with Alice Dawn and was 
very proud of his own rowing, several times 
caught himself lagging and even so careless 
as to “ recover ” his oars without “ feathering.” 
He was astonished at himself, and indignant, 
also ; how could he have become interested in 
the personality or doings of any one else while 
he was in the presence of Alice Dawn? — within 
sound of her voice ? Then it occurred to him 
that he had not heard that voice for several 
minutes, so he looked inquiringly toward its 
owner, and saw that she, too, seemed interested 
in the middle-aged couple in the boat not far 
[294] 



Through Other People s Eyes. 295 


away. Then Alice Dawn caught his eye and 
remarked, with a little confusion : 

“ I must have been dreaming.'’ 

‘‘I don’t wonder,” Joe replied. “ It is strange 
enough to make one wonder whether he really 
is awake.” 

What is?" 

That couple — the two most uninteresting 
people I ever saw at Brinston, or anywhere else. 
1 can’t believe my eyes ; there must be some 
glamor in the air, or a mirage that is playing 
tricks with them.” 

The girl looked inquiringly at Joe for what 
seemed to him a very long time ; he never had 
seen her look that way before, and her expres- 
sion puzzled him. He told himself that, had she 
been any other woman, he would have pro- 
nounced that look positively stupid. Then he 
called him a severe name or two, for his own 
stupidity in imagining Alice Dawn anything 
inconsistent with the highest womanly intelli- 
gence. At last the silence was broken by the 
girl inquiring : 

“ Tell me what you see. How do they really 
look? Tounger, or merrier, or what?” 


296 


The Chautauquans. 


“ No younger, certainly,” murmured Joe, row- 
ing somewhat closer to the couple, and glancing 
toward them without turning his head. “ They’re 
not merry, either; I’m sure they couldn’t appear 
more serious. And yet they appear happy — and 
something more ; I scarcely know how to name 
it. If it weren’t ridiculous. I’d say they appear 
like people who in some way have been suddenly 
ennobled. Please don’t laugh at me ; I know 
it’s a silly thing to say, in this prosaic age.” 

“ Nothing that is true can be silly, so I sha’n’t 
laugh.” 

“ That means that you agree with me. But 
isn’t it wonderful? If ’twere your father and 
mother, now, it would appear a matter of course. 
They often look as if they had come out of a 
temple, such as we read about in old times, 
where great mysteries changed people out of 
resemblance to their former selves. Your parents 
never cease to resemble themselves, but they do 
often look as if they had been admitted to the 
Holy of Holies, and as if each had been priest 
to the other.” 

The girl looked askance at her companion, 
then she blushed and answered : 


Through Other Peoples Eyes, 297 


“ I shall have to warn father and mother 
against carrying their hearts in their faces. They 
will be greatly surprised to lern that their lives 
have been open to the public gaze.” 

“ Perhaps they have not,” Joe suggested. 

“ Not every one chances to look beneath the 
surface of people’s faces; 1 assure you it is not 
a habit of mine. I’ve been carefully warned all 
my life against impertinent curiosity about the 
lives and thoughts of others. But some people’s 
individuality forces itself upon one at times — 
just like that of Mr. and Mrs. Purkis this after- 
noon.” 

Miss Dawn fell into a reverie, as her eyes 
followed the couple in the other boat. What 
was it that made those two very common and 
rather objectionable people look so startlingly 
and nobly unlike themselves? As she had not 
heard a word of their conversation, it was impos- 
sible for her to know the truth. Could it be the 
influence of the place ? Oh, no— she had heard this 
influence much talked of, and knew of it herself 
to a certain and pleasing extent. Probably to 
people like the Purkises, whose lives had fallen 
in rather rude places, the influence might be still 


298 


The Chautauquans, 


more welcome and beneficent. But there w^as 
nothing new about it ; she herself had heard Mrs. 
Purkis talk of it a dozen times — had herself talked 
with the old woman and congratulated her and 
seen her eyes fill joyously and heard her sing 
‘‘ Beulah Land by the hour, but none of this 
had made the face of the boarding-house keeper 
like it was this afternoon on the lake. Maybe 
there was some glamor in the air, or some 
mirage, as Joe had suggested. 

Then she recalled what her father had said 
only a few hours before about that same Purkis 
couple, and how odd it had seemed to her. 
That some people long married were very fond 
of each other she knew was quite true; had she 
not for years been worshiping her own parents 
for the continually renewing influence she saw 
in their lives ? She knew other couples — only 
two or three, in whom the same influence seemed 
to be present — at times, at least. But all of 
these, like her own family, w'ere people of high 
and stable character ; could it be that this mys- 
tery of love could or would take possession of 
people so unspeakably common as the boarding- 
house keeper and her husband? Mrs. Purkis 


Through Other People s Eyes. 299 


was a woman of a great deal of character ; this 
Miss Dawn had heard from time to time and had 
been obliged to see for herself, though with the 
limited vision which girls not much past twenty 
bring to such subjects. But she knew the 
woman’s history, and she had known Purkis by 
sight since her own childhood ; known him first 
as a rather handsome though shabby fellow, not 
unlike* some pictures of brigands in a story-book 
about Spain, which was one of the literary dar- 
lings of her childhood. She had seen the man 
grow commoner and shabbier year by year ; she 
had been shown the outside of his home, as part 
of an object-lesson in improvidence, by one of 
her Sunday-school teachers, and more than once 
had the man himself been pointed at as an illus- 
tration of the bad effects of drink. She knew he 
had changed some since the beginning of the 
Chautauqua movement in Brinston, but no mere 
mental reformation could have made him what 
he was that afternoon, sitting in a boat with his 
wife, and unconscious of being noticed by any 
one else. A year of study may do wonders, but 
not in that way or to that extent. Alice Dawn 
herself had seen a great deal of the effects of 


300 


The Chatitaiiquans, 


study on many kinds of natures, and some were 
wonderful, but they did not put into peoples 
faces what was filling the countenances of the 
commonest couple of Brinston’s inhabitants. 
What could it be? 

Joe Warren saw that the young woman was 
closely regarding the Purkises, so he Continued 
to propel his boat gently and within observing 
distance of that of the older couple. He himself 
was curious about the commonplace boarding- 
house keeper and her more commonplace hus- 
band, but it was not strange that his interest was 
not so close as that of his companion. He could 
observe and study the Purkis family at almost 
any time, but there were only a few opportuni- 
ties for observing Alice Dawn when he had not 
something else to do. Besides, the young woman 
was so largely endowed that her face changed 
notably with her surroundings. In a merry 
party she was the gayest of the gay ; at the 
table, where he met her three times a day, she 
was active in conversation ; while studying she 
was entirely absorbed in her books, and at the 
lectures, concerts and meetings at the Amphi- 
theatre and elsewhere, she gave her entire atten- 


Through Other Peoples Eyes. 301 


tion to whatever she was seeing or hearing. In 
each case she seemed to have a special face 
appropriate to the occasion ; so to look at her 
was as delightful as to contemplate several 
different young women, each one perfect in her 
way. If she had a fault in Joe’s eyes, it was that 
she gave herself so thoroughly to whatever she 
was doing that she had no time to give to the 
young man who longed to become her leading 
object of interest. 

Joe had accompanied her to several entertain- 
ments soon after the arrival of the Brinston delega- 
tion at the lake, and tried to make himself agree- 
able, but several times he was sure he detected a 
look of impatience, and when finally she ignored 
two or three of his remarks w'hich he was sure con- 
tained nothing disrespectful, he informed himself 
that, after all, perhaps she went for the sake 
of the entertainment and not of the escort. 
Although escorts were not at all necessary at 
Chautauqua by day or night, this was a stagger- 
ing blow to the young man’s pride, for like most 
youths of his age, he had been of the impression 
that young people’s sole use of any public gath- 
ering was as a place to talk. Alice Dawn seemed 


302 


The Chautauquans, 


to go for the sake of listening to what was on the 
programme — not to the young man who accom- 
panied her. After struggling with this thought 
a little while, Joe had retired from escort duty, 
and contented himself with sitting where he 
could study the young ^yoman’s face. The ex- 
perience did him good, for Miss Dawn’s face, 
like that of any other honest young person, faith- 
fully reflected its owner’s mind, and Joe had the 
consolation of noting what specially pleased her 
or from what she dissented, and he afterward 
used his information so skillfully in conversation 
that he flattered himself that he was making fair 
progress in the leading purpose of his life. 

But what was her face saying this afternoon, as 
she sat in his boat, in an attitude more earnest 
than graceful, and contemplated that old couple 
until she seemed to have forgotten Joe’s existence ? 
It must be something more than curiosity — 
something unusual, for nothing had ever before 
made her neglectful of the minor manners of life, 
some of which required that a young woman 
should not forget the existence of any one who 
was trying to entertain her in any way. Her 
eyes were open so wide, and her gaze was so 


Through Other People's Eyes. 303 


fixed that had she been any one else Joe Avould 
have said that she was staring. It was a new 
face, and, as it belonged to Alice Dawn, it was 
interesting. But what did it mean ? He could 
not say it was pretty as some she had shown, but 
there was something very interesting in it. Was 
it human sympathy — the feeling of a great, noble 
nature for lower ones, which had suddenly, and, 
perhaps, only for an instant come to the light ? 
No ; it was too serious for that. There was 
inquiry in it. What was she asking herself ? It 
wasn't any mere wonder ; she was not one of the 
weak-minded young women who could wonder 
so long about any one’s else affairs. 

Finally, Joe looked for his answer to the Pur- 
kises themselves. They still were looking happy 
— entirely contented, at least ; and the longer he 
looked the more evident it appeared that they 
were greatly interested in each other. He was 
not near enough to overhear their conversation, 
nor would he have listened if he could ; but it 
was not hard to imagine that what they might 
be talking about was what gave them so much 
satisfaction. Probably it was the change in the 
family’s financial condition ; he had heard the 


304 The Chautauquans, 

ladies discussing the Purkis financial outlook, 
based upon the profits of the boarding-house ; 
and the elder Miss Broad, who was her father’s 
housekeeper at home, agreed with Mrs. Dawn, 
who was herself a model housekeeper and could 
estimate expenses to a penny, that the old lady 
would retire at the end of the season with 
several hundred dollars clear profit. That was 
enough to uplift any one who had always been in 
the depths of poverty ; he himself remembered 
how much more manly he felt when he came of 
age, a year or two before, and exchanged a 
school boy’s allowance for the income of his share 
of his father’s estate. 

Still, that could not be all. Self-satisfaction 
is a comforting sensation, but it could scarcely 
explain the look with which Mr. and Mrs. Pur- 
kis were regarding each other. It was not so 
much self-comfort as satisfaction with each 
other; and this being so, why was it ? That the 
woman had done a good season’s work and made 
a great deal of money — for a Purkis— probably 
delighted her semi-reformed but constitutionally 
indolent spouse ; but why should she appear so 
entirely pleased with him, and why should he 


Through Other People s Eyes, 305 


look as if he knew it, and was quite of the opin- 
ion that it was all right and that he deserved 
whatever good his wife might think of him ? 

Joe Warren had not seen husband and wife 
together in his own home in many years, for his 
father had died while the only son was a little 
boy. Suddenly it occurred to him, however, 
that the couple who had consumed so much of 
his time this afternoon, and far too much of Miss 
Dawn’s, were in love with each other — actually 
in love, and heartily glad to again be in each 
other’s presence, and to look into each other’s 
faces. Joe was ready to laugh — the idea seemed 
to him so droll ; but a glance at his companion 
arrested him. He believed that a laugh would 
rudely startle her at that moment. What if she 
had come to the same conclusion ? Could that 
be what was making the girl’s face so sober ? 
He did not see why it should ; there was no rea- 
son why a man and his wife should not be fond 
of each other. To be sure, it was very ridiculous 
and a little disgusting in an old, common couple 
like the Purkises; still, general rules were of 
general application, he supposed. 

Again he looked at Miss Dawn ; there were 


3o6 


The Chautauquans. 


tears in her eyes, which startled him ; yet there 
was a flush on her face, and a look which was 
almost ecstatic. What queer creatures women 
are, anyway ! He was sure he hadn’t done any- 
thing to make her cry ; neither had he done 
anything to make her look happy — he devoutly 
wished he had. He thought the occasion 
required him to say something, but what to say 
he could not imagine. He noticed that most of 
the other boats were going shoreward ; he and 
his middle-aged fellow-townsman were the only 
oarsmen afloat in the middle of the lake. 

^‘Suppose we go in, Miss Dawn?” he sug- 
gested. The girl started, looked around and 
murmured : 

“Yes; do. I’d no idea we had been out so 
long. I promised mother that I would be back 
early so we could get good seats at the lecture.” 

Joe pulled away, and in five minutes was near- 
ing shore. He had looked steadily at his com- 
panion all the way, but not once had he been 
able to catch her eye. As he helped her from 
the boat he held her hand an instant longer than 
was absolutely necessary. Their eyes met, and 
the girl flushed and murmured : 


The Return of the Spies. 


307 


“ ’Twas a delightful row. I’m very, very much 
obliged. You’ll excuse me if I hurry to mother? 
Good-evening.” 

And away went Alice Dawn, like the young 
deer to whom hurrying girls have long been 
compared, while Joe Warren sauntered slowly 
toward the boarding-house and wondered why 
on earth the girl should have thought it neces- 
sary to dash oft alone, while it was still broad 
daylight, while the two of them were living 
under the same roof, and when she must have 
known, in the ordinary course of events, that 
there was nowhere else that he was likely to go. 


CHAPTER XXIL 

THE RETURN OF THE SPIES. 

When Mr. Broad returned to his native 
village, his acquaintances made as much fuss 
over him as if he had been to Europe, iustead of 
to a little town in his own State. Those who 
had fallen away from the circle had fondly 
expected and believed that the hard-headed 


3o8 


The Chautauquans. 


manufacturer would find everything so unprac- 
tical, judged by his own standards, that he 
would condemn it all and justify them for 
giving up the reading course. This set was 
soon made to feel uncomfortable, for Mr. Broad 
said that Chautauqua itself was all right, but 
that even if it wasn’t, he didn’t see what that 
could have to do with a course of study which 
was needed by every one in the town, and 
which, could it be made compulsory, would 
make Brinston so smart that it wouldn’t know 
itself at sight. 

“ Nearly all the folks at Chautauqua belong to 
circles throughout the country, and most of the 
remainder are going to join circles when they 
reach their homes. That means that they all 
are people who have brains, or who know their 
need of brains, which is the next best thing. 
What is the result ? Why, you are sure of 
intelligent company, no matter who you sit by at 
table, or at a concert or a lecture, or anyw^here 
else on the grounds. That is a great deal more 
than anybod}^ can say for this town of ours.” 

The inquirers turned away abashed, but mem- 


The Return of the Spies. 


309 


bers of the circle, with their families, were 
greatly delighted by what they heard. 

“ Go out there,” urged Broad. “ Economize 
on something else, if you have to, but go out 
there and take your families with you, if it’s 
only to give them a single look at a town which 
is like what all other towns will be when the 
millennium comes in — the time when everybody 
will be too decent and have too much of their 
own proper affairs to attend to, to have any time 
to meddle with their neighbors’ business, or to 
make trouble in any way. I suppose human 
nature there is about the same as it is every- 
where else ; for the people did not look at all 
unlike human beings elsewhere — some smart, 
some dull, some good-looking and some as plain 
as anything you can find. But you don’t have 
to be on guard against anybody ; you don’t have 
to fear that any one is going to try to take ad- 
vantage of you — unless it’s getting into that big 
Auditorium ahead of you, so as to get the best 
seats for the best entertainments, which I sup- 
pose is no more than men and women will do in 
the kingdom of heaven and not be blamed for 
it.” 


310 


The Chautauquans. 


Mr. Broad made these remarks at the post- 
office the day after his return to his home, and, 
as people were coming and going all the while, 
the returned traveler re-uttered his sentiments, 
with some embellishments and enlargements, 
through several hours of the day, finding willing 
listeners all the while. Among those who 
listened longest was Mr. Whitton, pastor of the 
church which fully half of the members of the 
local circle attended. His memory was good 
enough, and his rich parishioner told little that 
the minister had not heard before, yet he con. 
tinned to listen with eager ear. He did not 
shrink from any of his duties ; he thanked God 
daily that he lived and was able to work at the 
congenial task of making the world better ; he 
admitted that the place for such work was where 
there were many people who were slow to im- 
prove themselves, unless continually urged, and 
that Brinston was just such a place. Still, he did 
at times have a longing, which was almost fran- 
tic in its intensity, to rest and refresh himself a 
little while in the society of persons who did not 
specially need his attention. Ministers’ meetings 
were very well in their way, and he had some- 


The Return of the Spies, 


311 


times found mental refreshment in other meet- 
ings of well-meaning people ; but there was not 
at any of them a chance for a moment’s escape 
from the sense of responsibility and the desire to 
work. He had almost wished himself a Catholic, 
for once a year his somewhat suspected and 
highly esteemed brother-worker, the Catholic 
priest stationed at Brinston, went into “ retreat ” 
at some place appointed by his bishop, and was 
greatly refreshed and strengthened. Why, 
thought Mr. Whitton often, as he clasped his 
aching head and tried to catch needed sleep that 
eluded him, did not other denominations prepare 
similar resting-places for their weary workers? 
As he stood and listened that morning to the 
description of Chautauqua, he wished he could 
go to this place where everybody seemed already 
to have all the spiritual awakening and stimula- 
tion he needed, and could rest and be a little 
stimulated himself. But such thinking was idle ; 
no preacher at Brinston ever had a vacation, nor 
would one do him any good if it were granted, 
for his salary was too small to be drawn upon for 
traveling expenses. 

Suddenly, while he thought and longed, his 


312 


The Chautauquans, 


eye was caught by Mr. broad, who, with una^ 
bated enthusiasm, exclaimed : 

“ You ought to go out there, dominie. ’Twould 
do you a world of good.” 

“ Quite likely,” replied the preacher, while the 
manufacturer went on with his story, a new 
hearer having arrived. The postmaster, who 
chanced not to have a customer to attend to at 
that particular moment, leaned on the counter 
and regarded the narrator quizzically, and the 
instant the bystanders began talking to each 
other of what they had heard, he went to the 
back of the store, and shouted to Broad to drop 
back there a moment. 

“Look here!” he said, shaking his fist in the 
face of the manufacturer. “ Don’t they teach 
manners out at Chautauqua? Because, if they 
do, you didn’t improve your opportunity.” 

“ What's the matter now ?” Broad demanded. 

“ If you hadn’t any better manners, don’t you 
think you ought to have had heart enough not 
to tell the preacher he ought to go out there ? 
Couldn’t you see by his face, all the while you 
were talking, that he was just aching to go ? 
Don’t you know perfectly well that you might 


The Return of the Spies. 3 1 3 

as well have recommended a trip around the 
globe, so far as his ability to pay for it is con- 
cerned ?” 

Broad’s countenance fell, and he called himself 
an uncomplimentary name, speaking loud enougli 
for the postmaster to hear. 

“ That’s right,” said Brown; “stick to it, and 
call yourself similar names, until 3^011 get over 
that sort of blundering. Of course, the poor 
fellow must go to Chautauqua now, if I supply 
all the money that the trip will cost, and — ” 

“No, 3^ou won’t!” exclaimed Broad, now all 
himself again, and returning abruptly to the 
front of the store. He talked a little longer, but 
with the air of a man thinking about something 
else ; then he said, with a skilful affectation of 
carelessness : 

“ Dominie, I want to tell you again that you 
ought to go out to Chautauqua. You’re the 
very man who would enjoy it thoroughly and 
get a great deal of good out of it. I’m so sure 
of it, that if you’ll promise to go. I’ll put you in 
the way of making your traveling expenses, and 
I’ll see that your pulpit is filled while you’re 
gone.” 


* 3H 


The Chautauquans, 


The astonished minister seemed to lose the 
power of speech, but the postmaster prodded 
his shoulder with a vigorous forefinger, and 
whispered : 

“ Take him up — quick ! He doesn’t break out 
that way very often, and he ought to be encour- 
aged.” 

“ I promise,” gasped the minister. 

“ Good !” said Broad, “ and the quicker you 
are ready to start, the better. If you’ll get 
home and make your arrangements, I’ll drop in, 
in the course of an hour or two, and arrange the 
business part of it with you. You needn’t fear 
it will take much of your time ; I merely want 
you to do something there for me that I wanted 
myself to do while there, but couldn’t.” 

The minister started off, looking as if he was 
going somewhere conquering and to conquer, 
even though he hadn’t the slightest idea of 
where or how. 

“ Dominie !” shouted Broad. The minister 
stopped and looked back. “ Of course, I meant 
to include your wife in the bargain. Be sure 
you take her with you; she’ll enjoy it quite as 
well as you, and meet a lot of people she always 


The Retur^i of the Spies, 315 

will remember. I wish my wife had been 
alive and gone there with me; it made me feel 
lonesomer than ever, to see how happy the 
husbands and wives seemed with each other 
out there.” 

The listeners, who had been amazed at the 
manufacturer’s sudden outburst of generosity, 
wondered all the more as the minister again 
started for the door, for there was a tear in each 
of Mr. Broad’s eyes. He was not a heartless 
man — the most discontented of his workmen had 
never thought that of him ; but whatever his 
private griefs may have been, he had succeeded 
until now in entirely concealing them from pub- 
lic gaze. Even now he quickly recovered his 
self-control, drew his hand across his face, turned 
on his heel toward the postmaster, slid on his 
elbow along the counter until his face nearly 
touched Brown’s, glared defiantly a moment, 
and then hoarsely whispered : 

“ Youll have to supply all the money for the 
trip, will you ? Confound you ! Anybody 
would think, to hear you talk, that you werb the 
only man in the town that had any money that 


3i6 


The Chautauquans. 


he was willing to give away for deserving pur- 
poses.” 

“ I own up that Fm not,” said the post- 
master, though without anything apologetic in 
his manner; “and Fll own up again and again, 
as often as you do anything like this. That isn’t 
all ; J believe a good deal more now in the 
influence of Chautauqua, than I did from all you 
sajd put together. You’re a first rate talker ; I 
don’t know a better one in town ; but there’s 
some ways in which money talks louder than 
words.” 

Broad continued to free his mind at the post- 
office until the ringing of his own factory bell 
announced six o’clock ; this being the customary 
supper-signal throughout Brinston, the post- 
office emptied until only Brown and Broad 
remained. Both men remained silent several 
moments ; finally the postmaster remarked : 

“ If you hadn’t been obliged to do so much 
talking to-day I’d like to ask you if you had seen 
anything of my boys, while you were out there, 
and how they seemed to be getting along. It’s 
cost a deal to keep them and the farm going at 
the same time ; I don’t begrudge it, but I’d like 


The Return of the Spies. 


317 


to know if they’re doing something to justify 
it.” 

“ Umph !” grunted Broad, turning his back to 
the counter and closely scrutinizing the brand 
of a box of plug-tobacco, though he never 
chewed. “ I guess you needn’t trouble yourselt 
about the cost. They’re arranging pretty 
smartly to get it back, with quite a considerable 
besides.” 

“ Is that so ? I didn’t know there was any 
manual labor department out there, where stu- 
dents could help make up their expenses.” 

“ Didn’t, eh ? Well, there is ; there’s several. 
For instance, there’s waiting at the table, at the 
hotels and boarding-houses. Then there’s wait- 
ing on young women.” 

What on earth do you mean, Mr. Broad ?” 

“ I mean what I say, Mr.Brown.” 

Then I wish you’d say enough more to make 
your meaning plain. I don’t understand you at 
all.” 

The manufacturer turned his head carefully, 
as if afraid of turning it too far, then he looked 
suspiciously out of the corners of his eyes, as if 


The Chautauquans, 


318 

he was studying the heart of his most deadly 
enemy. Finally he asked ; 

Don’t you know that your two boys are pay- 
ing attention to my two girls?” 

“ No, I don’t ; but if it is so, I do know one 
thing, and that is that your girls are to be con- 
gratulated. There’s no finer young men in this 
town, even if it is their father who says it.” 

“ I’m not saying that you’re wrong,” Broad 
replied ; “ but I think, in the circumstances, that 
you might go farther and say more.” 

“ Eh ?” 

“ Don’t I talk loud enough ? Aren’t there any 
congratulations due anybody — my girls, con- 
found your conceited soul !” 

“ I heartily beg your pardon, Mr. Broad. It 
gives me great pleasure to say that my boys have 
displayed excellent taste and done great credit 
to their father’s teachings, which always have 
been that boys should not be content except 
with the very best of whatever they liked.” 

‘‘ Umph ! That’s a roundabout way of saying 
it.” 

“ Broad,” said the postmaster, “ I don’t know 
a finer couple of sisters in this whole town, or 


The Return of the Spies, 


319 


anywhere in the country round. That means 
everything, for nobody is better acquainted than 
I, or has studied people more closely?’ 

“ Well, I’m glad to see that you’ve got so 
sensible opinion to show for it. But we might 
as well understand one another. girls have 
got very little money of their own — only what 
their mother’s separate estate divided, and what 
they’ve saved out of the allowance I’ve given 
them since they came of age. I’m pretty well 
fixed, but that doesn’t mean that I can take a lot 
of money out of my business and give it away. 
Besides, no business is absolutely safe in this 
country. Something may turn up to make me 
a poor man before I die, and throw a dependent 
old man on my daughters.” 

“ Well, Broad,” said the postmaster, looking 
as thoughtful as if he were weighing the proba- 
bilities and studying as to what he ought to do in 
certain circumstances, “ all such things are pos- 
sible ; but if worst were to come to worst, and 
my boys should marry your girls, and the bottom 
should drop out of your business, why, you may 
depend upon this: I’ll make some sort of a 
place in the store here for you, so you can earn 


320 


The Chautauquans, 


your board, and not have to feel yourself 
dependent. In fact, I’d do it, anyway, even if 
no family ties should be made. I’d do it for old 
acquaintance’s sake.” 

“ Confound your impudence !” roared the 
manufacturer. “ Don’t you know perfectly well 
that I wasn’t driving at anything of that kind ?” 

“ Confound your impudence !” roared the post- 
master, in reply. “ Don't you know perfectly well 
that my boys are too well-born and bred to fall 
in love with the money of a girl’s father? Their 
own father has money enough for both of them, 
if they need more than they’re perfectly com- 
petent to earn — which isn’t at all likely.” 

“ Brown,” said the manufacturer, “ I take it 
all back ; but you oughtn’t to be hard on me for 
being a little suspicious. Young men nowa- 
days — ” 

“ Oh, hang ^ nowadays.’ Young men didn’t try 
to marry money in your day and mine, of course 
— oh, no !” 

Broad looked uncomfortable, for he had 
made quite a reputation, in his own day, for 
pursuing local heiresses. Brown made haste 
to change the subject. He remarked: 


THK UKKAT PKUCESSION, WITH BANNERS WAVING, MOVED. -xS'ee J^aye 380 


« 






t 







- 




1 . 


t . 


c’: 

.T . * 


r* 



K 








« 

w 


r^'te- 

• il ' 



. » 




■ I 

I 





ft 


V 



'♦ ; V • 




• < 


f. 


* 


/x vr 


-.s 

r« 


r 




ft 


t 


V 


« 



t 



t 



t. 






ir* 




ft 


* 


/N 






1 

t 


i 


* 


' t 


i 


s 


I 


ft 


( 



< 


> 


ft- 


I 


* 


^ k 



ft 


I 



I. 


1 1 


< ^ 


V 


^ I 

« 



« 






I 




» 


• * 


4 


I 


* 


r 


ft 


I 








1 


321 


The Return of the Spies. 

“ Broad, if thing's turn out right, I don’t think 
the young people are the only ones to be con- 
gratulated. Two old widowers that we’re ac- 
quainted with will have a chance to grow young 
again in the very pleasantest way I know of. 
I’ve long been looking forward to the time when 
the boys should marry ; I never spoke to them 
about it, knowing that young men seldom need 
to be egged on to that sort of thing, but a family 
without a woman in it is pretty lonesome at 
times.” 

“ I shouldn’t wonder,” said Broad. “ As for 
me, I’ve always mourned that 1 was denied a son.” 

“Well, if things are going as you seem to 
think, you’ll get a couple of sons without having 
had to bring them up. You always did get a 
good deal out of me in a trade, Broad.” 

“Umph! Dare to say that you won’t get 
equal value in this case, and I’ll forbid the bans.” 

“We’ll call it square, old man, and hope that 
the young people won’t make any blunders to 
make it crooked.” 

“Amen!” said Broad. “Well, I suppose I 
may as well go to my lonely supper-table.” 


322 


The Chautatiquans, 


“ I’ve one of the same kind,” said the post- 
master. “Suppose you come with me to mine? 
We must begin to get better acquainted with 
each other outside of business, if we’re to be 
dragged by our young ones into a family part- 
nership.” 

“ It’s a bargain,” said Broad. 

The store was locked, the two old men, as 
they were called by every one but themselves, 
went off arm-in-arm, and people remarked, two 
hours later, that never before had the post-office 
failed to be open when the evening mail came in. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A GREAT DEAL OF RECOGNITION. 

Recognition Day at Chautauqua corresponds 
in outward purpose with Commencement Day 
at college, but it means a great deal more. 
Young men and women leaving college are just 
beginning life; Chautauqua students generally 
are adults who have had considerable experience 
in the world, and a distinct purpose in study. 


A Great Deal of Recognitio 7 i. 323 


They have already had a great deal of discipline 
and a great deal that is still to be discovered by 
the college graduate, and is worth much more, 
as knowledge, than all that young people carry 
from college with them. The ceremonies of 
Recognition Day are appropriate to the senti- 
ments and purposes which underlie the course 
of study, and they differ from those of college 
commencement in no way more significant than 
that the participants exhibit extreme interest in 
them and are heartily sorry when they conclude. 

Mr. Broad had heard of Recognition Day 
while he was at Chautauqua, and at first he was 
inclined to turn up his nose at it and consign it 
to the limbo of the useless. Before he started 
for home, however, he changed his mind ; he 
had been disabused of so many of his original 
impressions of Chautauqua that he had reached 
the place where he meekly listened to what was 
told him, and believed it, as being the opinion of 
clear-headed men who knew a great deal more 
about the subject than he did. Consequently 
when his daughters wrote him the date of Rec- 
ognition Day, and said that Brinston Circle was 
going to make as large a showing as possible in 


324 


The Chautauqua7is, 


the procession and other ceremonies, he yielded 
to a desire to go once more to Chautauqua and 
take part in the exercises himself. ?Ie succeeded 
in persuading himself that it would be his duty ; 
for was he not president of the local circle ? He 
could not graduate for three years to come, but 
he could do the next best thing, which was to 
assist others to graduate in fine style, before as 
large a crowd as possible. 

When he announced that he was going, his 
fellow-townsman, Mr. Dawn, discovered that he, 
too, could be present, he having found business 
which called him to that part of the State. As 
it never occurred to Broad that there was any- 
thing in his own enthusiasm and doings that 
could make another man willing to give up his 
business for two or three days and spend two or 
three ten-dollar bills, he welcomed Dawn’s com- 
panionship and suggested that they should make 
the occasion memorable for Brinston by getting 
up an excursion for as many of the circle as 
might choose to go, getting the lowest railway 
rates possible, and themselves paying part 
of the cost of the tickets. They confided the 
plan to the postmaster, who put a portion of 


A Great Deal of Recognition. 325 


his own pocketbook into it, the final result 
being that nearly all the circle went out to 
Chautauqua to take part in the ceremonies of 
the great day ; and their president took such 
good care of them that he wrote Joe Warren in 
advance to engage the best possible quarters for 
all and charge any extra expense to him. 

There were many prominent people at Chau- 
tauqua that day — men and women known 
throughout the land for their wisdom, goodness 
and other gifts; for the beauty of the Chautauqua 
system is that those who know most are desirous 
of increasing their attainments, and the Chautau- 
qua course and the Chautauqua summer schools 
offer better opportunities to men and women 
whose lives already are busy than any college on 
the continent. Fifty other Chautauqua gatherings 
were being held throughout the land, and their 
attendants numbered hundreds of thousands, 
yet on Recognition Day the original Chautauqua 
alone held more than ten thousand people within 
its limits, which did not equal one square mile, 
and all of them had come to do honor to the 
graduates of the )^ear, or to strengthen them- 
selves against the day when they themselves 


326 


The Chautauquans, 


should be recognized. Grave college presidents 
were there, and society queens from various 
American realms ; men prominent in business and 
political circles, with some of their humblest 
subordinates ; men and women who, years before, 
had graduated from well-known colleges, and 
beside them other men and women who had 
come from lonely farms and humble shops, gain- 
ing their precious outing by year-long sacrifices. 
It was the most truly American assemblage in 
America, except that none of the dangerous 
classes were represented. A man or woman ceases 
to belong to any dangerous class when in the 
possession of the determination to improve 
mentally, morally and spiritually. 

But of all people there, the most exultant 
whom the Brinston contingent saw, was Mrs. 
Purkis. She arose early ; for sleep was impos- 
sible she told her daughters and husband. 

“ I don’t see what there is for any of us to get 
excited about,” said Arabella. “ ain’t going 
to be recognized — not for years. It makes me 
just ache to think what we’ve got to go through 
first. I don’t see what we’ve got to be excited 


A Great Deal of Recognitio 7 i. 327 


about to-day, if the recognizin’ don’t do us no 
good.” 

“You don’t, eh? Well, I can tell you. 
There’s lots in that class that gets through to- 
day that’s just like we was before that circle was 
started in Brinston. Most of ’era’s women, an 
they look like what I used to feel — look just as 
if they hadn’t anybody to take care of ’em — and 
as if they’d give anythin' in the world for some- 
thin’ that was makin’ ’em more than they was 
bein’. They got it when they went to studyin’ 
the Chautauqua way, an’ got in with other folks 
that was studyin’ the same books in the same 
way, an’ would give ’em a friendly human word 
once in a while. I’ve met some of ’em at the 
woman’s meetin’s, an’ was so sure 1 knowed just 
how they felt that I made bold to speak to ’em 
an’ draw ’m out a little, an’ I found out I was 
right. They’ve learned a good deal more than 
they found in books, too ; lots of them has 
learned that there ain’t any difference in men’s 
brains and women’s brains when both has the 
same chance to get along, and they ain’t agoin’ 
to forget it. That’s one thing that’s goin’ to be 


328 


The Chautauquans, 


recognized, whether Chautauqua means it or 
not.” 

“ What is ?” 

‘‘Why, that women are just as good as men, 
child, an’ that a woman don’t need to be led by 
the nose by a man just because she’s married to 
him. I b’lieve as much as anybody in husbands 
an’ wives stickin’ close together, an’ I’m better 
satisfied with my husband than any other woman 
alive, I b’lieve, but 1 won’t ever again have to 
feel that it’s a mistake to think anything unless 
he thinks it first. Woman’s brains is goin’ to be 
recognized to-day ; that’s why I’m way up be- 
tween the clouds and heaven.” 

When the grand procession of members of the 
Chautauqua Scientific and Literary Circle was 
forming, according to classes, with several hun- 
dred members of each of the undergraduate 
classes, Mrs. Purkis did not allow her enthu- 
siasm to get the better of her modesty. She 
and her daughters took places at the extreme 
rear of the youngest class, and it required the 
united exertions of Mrs. and Miss Dawn and 
the Broad girls, to bring the Purkis family to 
the centre, where the members of the Brinston 


A Great Deal of Recognition. 329 


Circle were clustered together. She scarcely 
dared to look at Mr. Broad, for that very morn- 
ing she had seen him talking — actually talking 
with Chancellor Vincent himself, a man whom 
she regarded as much the greatest man in the 
United States — a sentiment in which she was 
joined by many thousands of other Cliautau- 
quans. Mr. Broad, in turn, scarcely dared look 
at her ; he was as glad as any one that the old 
woman was so much better off, mentally and 
otherwise, than she ever had been up to a year 
before, yet her manner was so exultant and defi- 
ant that he scarcely could keep from laughing 
whenever he looked at her. He confidentially 
informed Mr. Dawn that if that old woman went 
on as she had begun, she would want to manage 
the whole town when she reached home. 

“ The town might be in worse hands,” was 
Dawn’s reply, upon which Broad, who was per- 
petual candidate for the village presidency, 
retired within himself a moment to wonder 
whether Dawn meant anything personal. Some- 
how Mr. Broad was in a critical mood that morn- 
ing; he had his doubts as to the value of the 
many symbolic portions of the ceremonies ; he 


330 


The Chautauquaiis, 


never had belonged to a secret society, so great 
was his abhorrence of everything intended to be 
typical of anything else ; and here every part of 
the ceremony of Recognition Day seemed to 
have a far-reaching meaning. 

There was but one cloud on Mrs. Purkis’s sky ; 
her husband was not likely to get away from his 
work to take part in the exercises ; somehow her 
husband had become very near and dear to her 
within the past few months. The class stood in 
line an hour or more in the shade of the 
trees, waiting for the ceremonies in the “ Hall of 
Philosophy’' — Chautauqua’s Mecca — to con- 
clude, and for the graduating class to emerge 
from the “ Golden Gates.” At last, however, 
the signal to move was given, and the great pro- 
cession, with banners waving, moved in the 
direction of the martial music which was heard 
not far away ; then it halted, and the ranks were 
opened to form an avenue for the graduates. 

“ It’s all child’s play,” growled Broad to 
Dawn. “ I hear they sprinkle flowers in the 
pathway of those graduates up there in the hall 
in the grove, and now we’re standing here in the 
sun so as to give them the Chautauqua salute, 
which is nothing but waving a white handker- 


A Great Deal of Recognition. 331 


chief, when they come along. I wish they’d 
come and have it over with.” 

“ Here they come !” shouted Frank Dawn. 

“ Father, get your handkerchief ready,” 
whispered the elder Miss Broad. 

The manufacturer ungraciously complied, 
mumbling a great deal about the nonsense of it 
all ; but suddenly he chanced to see Mrs. Purkis 
in the rank facing him, her head thrust forward 
so that she could see up the avenue, and her face 
literally transfigured. An expression of wonder 
chased the scowl from his face, and he uncon- 
sciously raised his hat in respect ; then he whis- 
pered to Dawn : 

“ Look ! Look !” 

Mr. Dawn followed the direction of his neigh- 
bor’s eyes, looked a moment, and said : 

“ Can you call anything child’s play that can 
work such a change as that ?” 

“No! No!” gasped Broad. “Will I ever 
stop learning, at this place, what a wooden- 
headed fool I am ?” 

But soon there was something besides Mrs. 
Purkis to look at — transfigured lives as well as 
faces. Could those be the graduates —the newly 


332 


The C/iautauquans, 


“ recognized — ” those serious, plain, self-con- 
tained looking people who were coming down 
the avenue between living walls and waving ker- 
chiefs? There were scarcely any young people 
among them, though beside one old woman, who 
seemed to be four-score, walked a beautiful 
girl, and not far behind them came a father, a son 
and a grandson, hand in hand. Broad knew 
human faces ; he could read the stories behind 
them, and it seemed to him as if the world had 
never before had so many heroes as he saw that 
day. He waved his handkerchief wildly ; it was 
with difficulty that he restrained himself from 
breaking into the procession and asking some of 
those people if the}^ knew how wonderful they 
were. His eyes filled, but he did not seem to 
know it until he saw, through a break in the 
column, Mrs. Purkis with tears streaming down 
her cheeks. Then he broke through the gradu- 
ates, grasped the old woman’s hand, and ex- 
claimed : 

“ Heaven is very good to us before our time, 
Mrs. Purkis. I never expected to see anything 
like this until Resurrection Day !” 


A Great Deal of Recog^iition, 333 


“ Tears to me about the same kind of an affair, 
Mr. Broad,” was the reply. 

Then the two stood and chatted as earnestly 
and familiarly as if they were old and dear 
friends ; together they studied the faces of the 
older classes as one after another joined the 
procession, and when the time came for the 
youngest class of all, to which the Brinston 
Circle belonged, to again form ranks and march, 
Alice Dawn whispered to Joe Warren : 

“ Do look at Mr. Broad ? He’s touching his 
hat to Mrs. Purkis. I do believe he is asking if 
he may march beside her in the procession.” 

“ I really don’t see why he shouldn’t,” Joe 
replied. “ I don’t know any woman here from 
Brinston — present company excepted, and pres- 
ent company’s mother — whom a man who is a 
man should rather march beside. Do you?” 

The answer was a look that made Joe’s heart 
dance for joy. 

The youngest class was the last to enter the 
Amphitheatre, where the oration which con- 
cluded the services was to be delivered, and the 
seats of the class were not where the graduates 
could be seen ; so Mr. Broad got out again and 


334 


The Chautauqtians. 


pressed his way among the spectators to a place 
where he could study again those wonderful 
faces. The oration was a fine one, but the 
manufacturer heard but little of it ; his mind 
was too full of wonder and thought. To this 
day he talks of that day, and of the new light 
which had illumined the human nature of 
which he had previously supposed he knew 
everything. 

During the remainder of the day Mr. Broad 
devoted himself to getting acquainted with those 
graduates. His daughters were unable to find 
him, so was Joe Warren, who had a host of 
questions to ask for the members of the excur- 
sion party. At a late hour of the evening, how- 
ever, his daughters, accompanied by the Brown 
boys, found him on the hotel piazza, freeing his 
mind to some men who, having long been prom- 
inent in the Chautauqua movement, had heard 
such stories before, yet never wearied of them. 
With great difficulty he was drawn away. 

We’ve been looking for you everywhere for 
ever so long,” said the elder Miss Broad. 

“ Indeed we have,” said her sister. 

It’s a shame that I’ve neglected my family 


A Great Deal of Recognition. 335 


so long, after having seen so little of them for a 
couple of months,” was the reply, “ but, really, I 
must be excused for anything I’ve done or 
haven’t done to-day. But what is it ?” 

There was a moment of silence ; then the elder 
Miss Broad took the arm of her escort and 
said : 

“ This is Recognition Day, father.” 

“ The information comes rather late,” said 
Broad, “ but I’ll admit that you’re right. What 
about it ?” 

“Only this: We want to be recognized — 
Harry and I.” 

“So do we,” said the younger Miss Broad. 

“ We meant to ask you ourselves, but we’ve 
been unable to find you ” Harry Brown 
explained. 

“Well,” said the father, “I don't know how 
the day could end more to my satisfaction.” 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

HOME AGAIN. 

The Brinston excursion party had plenty to 
talk about on the way home from Chautauqua ; 
people who never before had been regarded as 
conversationalists had quite as much to tell and 
to ask as any of their companions ; and as each 
had seen and heard much that had escaped the 
others, the buzz of chat in the railway-car was 
equal to that of a well-attended sewing-circle. 
Naturally the members of the several families 
Avho had spent the entire season at Chautauqua 
were oftenest appealed to ; so it came to pass 
that Mrs. Purkis, for the first time since she had 
married, found herself frequently called upon for 
information. She was quite equal to the occa- 
sion ; as keeper of a boarding house she had 
[336] 



Home Again. 337 

made it her duty to fully inform herself about 
everything that went on at Chautauqua. 

But reminiscences could not consume all the 
hours of a long railway journey ; so the Brinston 
people began to devise new ways of passing the 
time. Somebody suggested a game about which 
Joe Warren knew very well, having managed it 
at the boarding-house at Chautauqua ; but some, 
how Joe could not be found. One of the tor- 
menting class that always is thinking of some- 
thing dreadful — the class that is represented 
even in churches, so Chautauqua circles cannot 
hope entirely to escape it — suggested that he 
had fallen between the cars and been run over. 

“ What is the matter, my child ?” asked Mr. 
Dawn, a moment later, as he noticed that his 
daughter was hiding her face and crying. 

“ Do you suppose that anything so dreadful 
has happened ?” 

“ No.” 

But suppose it should be true ?” 

“ Don’t suppose anything of the sort. Why^ 
child. I’m afraid you’ve studied too hard this 
summer, and lost control of yourself. I never 
saw you in such an apprehensive state of mind.” 


338 


The Chautauquans, 


“ I — it isn’t study, father; I’m as well as ever, 
but I do wish I knew the truth. It would be so 
awful if anything of the kind had happened. He 
has been very kind to me — to mother and me — 
all through the season.” 

‘‘Well, my dear girl,” said Dawn, putting his 
arm around his daughter, “ if you’ll promise 
solemnly to dry your eyes at once, and not run 
the risk of making a spectacle of yourself, I’ll 
have him looked up right away. Here, Frank; 
you go through the train forward, while I go 
aft. Let’s see what has become of Joe Warren ; 
the ladies want him to start some game that he 
knows about. I think it very likely that you’ll 
find him in the smoking-car, sucking away at a 
cigarette.” 

“ He has stopped smoking,” said Alice, faintly. 

“Oh! Well, young men do tell such yarns 
sometimes — to girls. Be sure, though, to search 
the smoking car, Frank.” 

Several moments later, Mr. Dawn returned, 
with a Broad smile in possession of his face. 
He sat down beside his daughter, and said: 

“ He’s entirely safe, but in the circumstances 
I thought best not to disturb him. Say, Alice, 


Home Again. 


339 


which of the Purkis girls is he making love 
to?” 

“ Father ! How can you be so foolish ! What 
do you mean ?” 

“Come with me and Pll show you; the train 
is just slowing at a station. If there isn’t a love 
affair behind it, he is the most remarkable young 
man of my acquaintance.” 

The girl wondered, as her father led her along. 
At last, in a car in the rear, she saw Joe and 
Mrs. Purkis sitting together, and apparently 
interested in a book which Mrs. Purkis held. 

“ Excuse us for disturbing you,” said Dawn, 
when the couple noticed his presence, “ but 
there’s a special demand for you in our car, 
Warren. Will you excuse him a few moments, 
Mrs. Purkis?” 

“Yes,” said the old woman, who seemed 
embarrassed about something. “Pm about 
through for to-day.” 

The two men went forward. Alice Dawn sat 
down by Mrs. Purkis, who said : 

“ I’m kinder sorry you an’ your father came 
back. There was so much laughing, back at 
Chautauqua, about me tryin’ to learn Greek that 


340 


The Chautauquans. 


1 made up my mind nobody ever should hear 
anything about it again/' 

“Why, Mrs. Purkis, I’m sure everybody 
wished you well at it.” 

“ Mebbe so; but if they did, they took a 
mighty queer way of showin’ it. I didn’t do no 
listenin’, but I couldn’t help overhearin’ the 
laughin’ about it sometimes. My gals told me 
to get over it by laughin’, too, but I couldn’t. I 
had two or three hard cryin’ spells about it. 
One day, Joe Warren came through the back of 
the house cornin’ up from the lake, an’ he saw 
me cryin’, an’ he said : 

“ ‘ Why, Mrs. Purkis, what’s the matter ?’ 

“ Well, I up an’ told him, though I ain’t given 
to tellin’ any of my troubles to men folks. He 
heard me all through, an’ then he said, as 
kindly as if he had been my own son : 

“ ‘ Is that all ?’ 

“ ‘ It’s enough,’ said I. 

“ ‘ I wouldn’t have thought it about some of 
the people in this house,’ said he, ‘ but so far as 
the Greek’s concerned, you just stick to it, 
laugh or no laugh, and when you want any help 
you come to me. I stood very well in Greek 


when I was at college ; Fm afraid Fm a little 
rusty ROW, but 'twill do me good to have an 
excuse to freshen up.’ 

“ That wasn’t all. Talk is cheap, but he 
was as good as his word. Ev’ry day after 
that, when he come home in the afternoon 
from the class where he studied somethin’ else, 
he always come around the kitchen-way an’ 
asked me how I was gettin’ along. Pretty soon 
he insisted on goin’ over my lessons with me 
ev'ry day, an’ seein’ that I got started right in 
each of ’em. I didn’t mean to bother him on 
the trip home, but he come to me an’ reminded 
me that our last talk was about a very knotty 
point that I couldn’t quite unravel, an’ that as 
neither of us had anything particular to do, an’ 
nobody in the car seemed to be particularly need- 
in’ us just then, that we might get a car or two 
back, out of our own crowd, and have it out with 
that lesson. You needn’t think he was ashamed 
to be seen teachin’ me ; ’twas me that was 
kinder touchy about bein’ seen with a Greek 
book in my hands, after what had been said 
an’ done. But goodness ! You look as glad 
for me as if you might be my own daughter.” 


342 


The Chautauquans. 


“ Indeed I am glad, Mrs. Purkis ; more so 
than 1 can tell you, but Pm also very much 
surprised. 1 didn’t imagine Mr. Warren was 
that sort of man.” 

“Didn’t, eh? Well, maybe he wasn’t until he 
came out to Chautauqua. I’m sure that home in 
Brinston he sometimes looked at me as if he 
wondered how such folks as me could really be 
livin’ in the same world with folks like him. I 
do assure you, it almost took my breath away 
when I saw there was another side of him.” 

Alice Dawn started to go into a reverie, but 
was aroused by Mrs. Purkis, who remarked : 

“ He’s cornin’ back. Don’t let on that I told 

_ ff 

you. 

“ Miss Dawn,” said Joe, “ we’re going to have 
a half-hour stop and some very fine scenery in a 
few moments. Can’t I coax you out of the 
train ? ” 

“’T won’t require any coaxing,” said the girl, 
with a smile which Joe informed himself was the 
rarest and most radiant he ever had seen, even 
upon Alice Dawn’s face. 

The scenery was indeed fine — so much so that 
fully half of the people in the train got out to 


Home Again. 


343 


enjoy it. Joe professed to see a specially good 
point of observation two or three hundred yards 
from the track ; it certainly had the merit of 
having no other excursionists upon it. 

“ How glorious ! ’’ murmured the girl. “ I 
daren’t try to say anything new about sunsets, 
but this one seems like a glimpse of the better 
world.” 

Joe sighed. “ I feel as if I were leaving behind 
me a great many glimpses of the better world,” 
said he. “ I never before was so sorry to leave 
any place as I am at going away from Chau- 
tauqua.” 

“ There’s no place like home,” said the girl. 

“ That is a good old sentiment, but there are 
some places where one is constantly reminded of 
what home lacks. Chautauqua was one of them.” 

“ Why, Mr. Warren, what a thing for you to 
say — you, with a home such as any other man 
would envy you ! ” 

“ I love it dearly, but it needs an additional 
occupant — one whom I’ve long been trying to 
get, yet never have- dared to ask.” 

“ Indeed? I shouldn’t have thought you lack- 
ing in daring.” 


344 


The ChMitatiquans, 


“ I’m not ; but when a man is in love with the 
best and sweetest and noblest girl in the world, 
and has long made her the principal study of his 
life, there must come a time when he doubts his 
own merits, and wonders whether she can possibly 
see anything in him that would justify her in 
accepting him.” 

“ And there’s only one way for him to find 
out, I suppose,” said the girl, giving him a quick, 
roguish glance, and then averting her head. 

The young man seized her hand, thought 
terribly hard, for what seemed an hour, for words 
suitable to the occasion, and at last succeeded 
in saying : 

“ Will you ?” 

A shriek arose from the locomotive, and the 
girl quickly answered : 

“ Yes, if it won’t make us lose the train.” 

It was hours after, when the train made another 
long stop, and Joe Warren invited Miss Dawn 
to stroll a little way in the fresh air, that the 
interview was resumed and the customary seal 
placed upon the contract. Then the young man 
had to wait several days more for an opportunity 


Ho7ne Again. 


345 


to tell Miss Dawn how remarkably fortunate he 
thought himself. 

“Although,” he said with a laugh, “if Td had 
the faintest idea that you would have helped me 
along so kindly, I should have been made happy 
months before.” 

“ Oh, no, you wouldn’t — not by me. Incredible 
though it may seem, I never thought you very 
much of a man until quite recently.” 

“What a mercy that I didn’t know it! May 
I ask when you were graciously pleased to 
change your mind ?” 

The girl went backward among her thoughts 
and mused so long that Joe remarked : 

“ I thought you said it was quite recently.” 

“ Yes,” said Miss Dawn, returning with a 
start. “ At least, it was a very short time ago 
that the change was completed. It was just 
after I saw you helping Mrs. Purkis with her 
Greek lesson. Oh, Joe !” 

“ I’m sure there was nothing so remarkable 
about that. Any one might have done it who 
knew anything about Greek. Could any other 
college chap have won you in that easy fashion? 
Upon my word, you have a remarkable faculty 


346 


The Chautauquans. 


for making a man feel insignificant, even after 
lifting him up to the seventh heaven.” 

“’Twasn’t for that lesson alone. She told me 
what you had been to her through all the sea- 
son, and I made up my mind at once that you 
were a real great-hearted man, and that Td been 
entirely wrong in thinking that — ” 

“ That?” 

“ Oh, that you were very much like all other 
young men — that you didn’t amount to anything 
above the usual.” 

“ Thanks for your frankness. Allow me to 
admit that your original impression was not far 
from correct. But do you know what has 
been my principal discouragement while try- 
ing to persuade you to think well of me? It 
was the feeling that you were so entirely self- 
sufficient, in the nobler sense, that you never 
would become any man’s wife.” 

Upon my word !” exclaime(t the girl, regard- 
ing her companion with wonder and a little 
apprehension. “ I didn’t imagine I was so trans- 
parent that my very thoughts could be read.” 

“ I seem to have been right in my surmise, 
then, but I’m not conceited enough to think that 


347 


Home Again. 


I alone caused you to change your opinion of 
man and matrimony. May I ask what it was 
that assisted me ?” 

Again Miss Dawn’s mind went backward, and 
she fell into a reverie which was so becoming to 
her that at first her companion did not care to 
break it. Gradually, however, curiosity caused 
him to arise, lean over her chair, take her hand, 
and whisper : 

“If ’twas so lovely as seems, from the way it 
makes you look, won’t you share it with me ?” 

“You did share it with me,” was the reply, 
that came almost in a whisper. “ Do you re- 
member that evening on the lake, when both of 
us were so interested in Mr. and Mrs. Purkis ?’’ 

“ Do I ? I never can forget it.” 

“ Nor I. Until then I had believed that happy 
marriages were the exceptions to the rule, and 
that only noble natures should marry. I knew 
that my parents were very happy with each 
other, but I knew of a great deal of misery else- 
where ; some of my old school-mates had already 
succeeded in marrying and becoming miserable. 
But when I saw that common couple looking so 
very happy, after all they had gone through — 


348 


The Chautauquans. 


looking, as you said at the time, as if they had 
been suddenly ennobled, I learned suddenly a 
great deal that I never shall forget.” 

I shall always devoutly thank Heaven, then, 
for creating the Purkises, and for sending them 
to Chautauqua, and for there being a Chautau- 
qua for them and us to go to,” said Joe. “ But 
why did you hurry off, as soon as we got ashore, 
as if your dutiful and respectful escort had sud- 
denly changed to a demon, and you were tr3dng 
to escape from him ?” 

“ Because,” was the reply, as the little hand 
withdrew from Joe’s, and helped its mate to 
cover its owner’s e^ms, “ I’d suddenly seen 
part of my heart so clearly that I feared you 
saw it, too.” 

Then Joe knelt, gently drew the girl’s hands 
apart, and covered her eyes with his lips. 

About this time, Mr. Broad and a dozen others 
were discussing the Circle’s past, and forecasting 
its future, as they lounged at the post-office. 

“ It has been as useful to the town as a revival 
of religion ; eh, dominie?” 

'‘That’s putting it rather strongly,” was the 


Home Again. 


349 


reply ; “ but I must admit that it has reformed 
some people that have resisted revival influences, 
and done an immense deal of good of a kind 
which religion alone should not be expected to 
do.” 

‘‘ If the whole town could be made to see it as 
we do !” said Broad. The postmaster inter- 
rupted by saying : 

“The whole town won’t, until the milennium 
begins. Let’s be thankful that there are forty or 
fifty of us thoroughly interested and at work. 
If we don’t give up, other people will have to 
see, in the course of time, the good effects of our 
work.” 

“ There’s a great deal to be seen already,” said 
Broad. 

“ Indeed there is,” said the minister. “ A tired 
preacher has been taking a long rest, for the first 
time in the history of the town.” 

“ And a certain public-spirited citizen,” said 
Broad, “ has learned that he hadn’t already 
learned everything worth knowing. I trust 
that I won’t be called upon to name him.” 

“ A number of our people have spent more or 
less time ^t a place which most folks didn’t 


350 


The Chautauquans, 


expect to find on this side of the River Jordan,” 
said Dawn. 

“ The general run of young people in the 
town have changed their reading-matter lor the 
better, and don’t seem to be a bit unhappy about 
it,” remarked the postmaster. 

“ Yes, and the bad bo 3 ^s aren’t half as bad as 
they used to be,” said Broad, “though 1 really 
can’t see how that has come about.” 

“ For particulars, consult small boys — mine 
among the number,” suggested Dawn. 

“ One whole family has been lifted out of the 
mud,” said Piirkis, with shaking voice. “ I 
won’t mention any names, and I’m not certain 
yet how it all came about, but what’s been done 
lor them shows what can be done for lots of 
others.” 

“ People worth knowing are better known 
than ever before,” the minister remarked, “ and 
the most retiring natures, which generally are 
the best, have been brought together, which is 
the highest success that good society ever 
achieves.” 

“ Some young folks have been brought 
together, too,” drawled Harry Brown, “ to 


351 


Home Again. 

their entire satisfaction. I don’t see how it 
could have come about if it hadn’t been for our 
Chautauqua circle. Speaking for the male half 
of these young people, I’d like to know who’s 
got more out of the year’s work than they.” 

“ Their parents,” said the postmaster. 

“ Right you are !” exclaimed Broad, empha- 
sizing his assent by bringing his hand heavily 
down between the postmaster’s shoulders. 
“ Dominie, what are you laughing at ?” 

“ Only this,” was the reply. “ Chautauqua 
offered us nothing but a course of study, and 
such information as that study would bring us. 
Everything that we have been congratulating 
ourselves upon has come in addition to what we 
were offered and promised. I wish the rest of 
the world might know our story.” 

* * * * * * * 
Well, here the story is for those who may care 
for it. 


THE END. 


HOSTETTEirS STOMACH BITTERS 

A Qood Alterative and Tonio for Tamily Purposes. 


TRY THE 

National Tonic 

— roB — 
Dyspepsia, 

Indigestion, 

UTei Complaint, 


THE BrraiEBS 

WILL— — 

Strengthen the Stomach, 

Rouse the Liver, 

Regulate the Kidneys, 
Purify the Blood, 

And Restore Health and Tigor. 

The botanic and remedial agents combined in the preparation of 
Ilostetter’s Stomacln Bitters comprise some of the most efficacious 
extracts of herbs, barks, and roots known to botanical medicine, harmo- 
niously combined after along experience and observation of their practical 
effects, with a purified spirituous basis, from which all harmful elements 
are eliminated. It arouses the stagnant and Impoverished blood currents, 
and sends a thrill of joy with every pulsation of the heart. 

Ask yonr Druggist for it. and see that yon get Hostetter’s Stomach Bitters. 

D. HEEBEET H08TETTEE President. 

THEO. E. HOSTETTEE, Vice Pres’t. 

M. L. MYEESi Secretary and Treasurer, 


Fever and Ague, 
and Bladder Disease. 





THE HOSTETTER COMPAHY, ProjS. 

PITTSBURGH, PA. 



FACIAL BLEMISHES 


The Largest Establishment in the World for the 
(treatment of Hair and Scalp, Eczema, Moles, 

I Wai’ts, Supei-fluous Hair, Birthmarks, Moth, Frec- 
kles, Wrinkles, Bed Nose, Ked Veins, Oily Skin, 
'Acne, Pimples, Blackheads, Barber’s Itch, Scars, 
Fittings, Powder Marks, Bleaching, Facial Develop- 
ment, Hollow or Sunken Cheeks, etc. Consultation 
free at office or by letter. 128 page book on all 
skin and scalp affections and their treatment, sent 

sealed to any address on receipt of 10 cents. 

JOHN U. WOODBUKY 9 Dermatologist, 125 West 42d. St., 
New York City, WOODBURY’S FACIAL SOAP for tlie Skin 
and Scalp, at Druggists, or by mail, 60 cents. 

The SECBET of many aglrl’s beauty Is ber teetb. 

It becomes a secret no longer when she whis- 
pers “PROPHYLACTIC.” 

Do you use the PROPHYLACTIC TOOTH BRUSH? 

florence Manufacturing Co., Florence, Mass., wiH send you one for 
if you cannot find it. 



THE 

Chautauquans 

By John Habberton, 

Author of “ Helen’s Babies.” 


ILLUSTRATED BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


NEW YORK: 

ROBERT BONNERES SONS, 
Publishers. 


THE 

NEW YORK LEDGER. 

The Illustrated National Family 
Journal of To-day. 


A Great Quantity and Variety of Reading. 

enlarged size of the Ledge7' in its new form enables the 
1 publishers to give such an extensive variety of reading 
matter that every number contains something of interest to every 
member of the household. \ , / 


'^PHE following table of contents gives only a slight outline of 
1 the rich and varied contributions to the Ledger from the 
pens of the most distinguished writers : 


Novels of American Life, 
Novels of Foreign Travel, 
Novels of Southern Society, 
Novels of Adventure, 

Novels of Metropolitan Life, 
Short Stories 
Popular Sketches, 

Short Articles, 

Stories of Adventure, 
Popular Information, 
Household Advice, 

Popular 


The Woman’s World, 
Biog-raphical Sketches, 
Explorations, 
Humorous Anecdotes, 
Poems and Ballads, 
Natural History, 

Home Crdture, 

Health Suggrestions, 
Principles of Etiquette, 
Articles of Travel, 
Historical Sketches, 

Liiy. 


T his is a variety from which all can make a pleasing selection 
every week; and, furthermore, it is ample testimony to the 
great merit and value of the coming volume. 


Illustrated Souvenir Numbers. 

F rom week to week, the Ledger will be filled with the illustra- 
tions of celebrated artists, and the extra Christmas, Easter, 
Thanksgiving and Fourth-of-July numbers will be features of 
special artistic embellishment. 

The LEDGER is issued weekly, and the subscription 
price is only $2 a year. Send Money Order, Regis- 
tered Letter or Check, at our risk, to 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. AVilliam and Spruce Streets, New York City. 


fHE LEDGER LIBRARY. 


1. -HER DOUBLE LIFE. By Mre. Har- 

riet Lewis. Cloth, s^l.OO ; paper, 50 cts. 

2. — UNKNOWN. By Mrs. Houthworth. 

Cloth, i^l.OO ; pai>er, 50 cts. 

3. — GUNxHAKER OF MOSCOW. By 

Bylvauns Cobb, Jr. Cloth, .$1.00; 
paper, 25 cts. 

4. — MAUD MORTON. By Major A. R. 

Calhoun. Cloth, $1.00 ; pax)er, 50 cts. 

5. — THE HIDDEN HAND. By Mi-s. E. 

D. E. N. South worth. Cloth, $1.00; 
paper, 50 cts. 

6. — SUND E R E D H E A RTS. By Mrs. Har- 

rietLevvis. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

7. — THE STONE-CUTTER OF LISBON. 

By VVm. Henry Peck. Cloth, .$1.00; 
paper, 50 cts. 

8. — LADY KILDARE. By Mrs. Harriet 

Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

9. — CRIS ROCK. By Captain Mayne 

Reid. Cloth, .$1 .00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

10. — NEAREST AND DEAREST. By Mrs. 

E. D. E. N. South worth. Cloth, $1.00 ; 
paper, 50 cts. 

11. — THE BAILIFF’S SCHEME. By Mrs. 

Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

12. — A LEAP IN THE DARK. By Mrs. 

E. D. E. N. Southworth. Cloth, .$1.00 ; 
papei’, 50 cts. 

13. — HENRY M. STANLEY. By H. F. 

Reddall. Cloth, .$1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

14. — THE OLD LIFE’S SHADOWS. By 

Mrs. Harriet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; 
paper, 50 cts. 

15. — A MAD BETROTHAL. By Laura 

Jean Libbey. Cloth, .$1.00; p.aper, 
50 cts 

IG.— THE LOST LADY OF LONE. By 
Mrs. E. D, E. N. Southworth. Cloth, 
$1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

17. — lONE. By Laura Jean Libbey. Cloth,, 

$1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

18. — FOR WOMAN’S LOVE. By Mrs. E. 

D. E. N. Southworth. Cloth, $1.00; 
paper, 50 cts. 

19. — CESAR BIROTTEAU. By Honors 

De Balzac. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 
50 cts. 

20. — THE BARONESS BLANK. By 

Niemann. Cloth, $1. 00; paper, 50 cts. 

21. — PARTED BY FATE. By Jiaura Jean 

Libbey. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

22. — THE FORSAKEN INN. By Anna 

Katharine Green, Cloth, .$1.50 ; 
paper,’ 50 cts. 

23. — OTTILIE ASTER’S .SILENCE. 

Translated from the German. Cloth, 
$1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

24. — EDDA’S BIRTHRIGHT. By Mrs. 

Harriet Lewis, Cloth, $1.00; paper, 
50 cts 

25. — THE ALCHEMIST. From the French 

of Honor6 De Balzac. Cloth, $1.00 ; 
paper, 50 cts, 

26. — UNDER OATH.— All Adirondack 

Story. By Jean Kate Ludlum. Cloth, 
$1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

27. — COUSIN PONS. From the French of 

Honor6 De Balzac. Cloth, $1.00; 
paper, 50 cts. 

28. — THE UNLOVED WIFE. By Mrs. E. 

D. E. N. Southworth. Cloth, $1.00 ; 
paper, 50 cts. 


29. — LILITH. By Mrs. E. D. E. N, South- 

worth. Cloth, .$1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

30. — REUNITED. By A Popular Southern 

Author. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

31. — MRS. HAROLD STAGG. By Robert 

Grant. Cloth, $1 .00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

32. — THE BREACH OF CUSTOM. Fj om 

the German. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 
50 cts. 

33. — THE NORTHERN LIGHT. Trans- 

lated from the German of E. Meruer. 
Cloth, .$1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

34. — BERYL’S H USBAND. By Mrs. Har- 

riet Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 
50 cts. 

35. — A LOVE MATCH. By Sylvanus 

Cobb, Jr. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 
3G.— A MATTER OF MILLIONS. By 
Anna Katharine Green. Cloth, $1.50; 
paper, 50 cts. 

37. — EUGENIE GRANDET. By Honor6 

De Balzac. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

38. — THE IMPRO VISA TORE. Translated 

from the Danish of Hans Christian 
Andersen. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

39. — PAOLI, THE WARRIOR BISHOP, 

or The Fall of flie Clii'istiniii^. By W. 
C.Kitchin. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

40. — UNDER A CLOUD. By Jean* Kate 

Ludlum. Cloth, .$1.00 ; i)aper, 50 cts. 

41. — WIFE AND WOMAN. Translated 

from the Ger man by Mary J. Saflord. 
Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

42. — A N 1 N S I G N I F I C A N T WOMAN. 

Translated from the German of W. 
Heimburg by Mary Stuart Smith. 
Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

43. — THE CARLETONS. By Robert 

Grant. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

44. — MADEMOI SELl.E DESROCHES. 

Translated from the French of Andr6 
Theuriet, by Meta De Vere. Cloth, 
$1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

45. — THE BEADS OF TASMER. By 

Amelia E. Barr. Cloth, $1.25; paper, 
50 cts. 

46. —. IOHn’wINTHK 01»’S DEFEAT. By 

Jean Kate Ludlum. Cloth, $1.00 ; 
paper, 50 cts. 

47. — LITTLE HEATHER - BLOSSOM. 

Translated from the Geiiuan, by 
Mary J. SafFord. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 
50 cts. 

48. — GLORIA. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. South- 

worth. Cloth, .$1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

49. — DAVID LINDSAY. A sequel to 

Gloria. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. South- 
worth. Cloth, $1 .00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

50. — THE LITTLE COUNTESS. Trans- 

lated from the German by 8. E. Boggs. 
Cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cts. 

51. — THE CHAUTAUQUANS. By John 

Habberton. Cloth, $1 25 ; paper, 50c. 

52. — THE TWO HUSBANDS. By Mrs. 

Lewis. Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cts. 

53. — MRS. BARR’S SHORT STORIES. 

By Amelia E. Barr. Cloth, $1.25; 
paper, 50 cts. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS. 

BY 

E. YON DINCKLAGE, 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


By S. E. BOGGS. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


12mo. 318 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 

r 

“ The Little Countess” is a delightful novel. It is full of life 
and movement, and, in this respect, is superior to most transla- 
tions from the German. It is distinctly a story to be read for 
pure enjoyment. The little countess belongs to an ancient and 
noble family. She is left an orphan in a lonely old castle, with a 
fevv servants and pets. Her heroic temper sustains her in every 
trial. The part played by an American girl in the story is very 
amusing, and shows what queer ideas are entertained of American 
women by some German novelists. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
'-on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

COR. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


THE 


NEW YORK LEDGER. 


The Illustrated National Family 
Journal of To-day. 

, A Great Quantity and Variety of Reading. 


enlarged size of the Ledger in its new form enables the 
1 publishers to give such an extensive variety of reading 
matter that every number contains something of interest to every 
mejnber of the household. 

'T'HE following table of contents gives only a slight outline of 


1 the rich and varied contributions to the Ledger from the 
pens of the most distinguished writers : 


Novels of American Life, 
Novels of Foreign Travel, 
Novels of Southern Society, 
Novels of Adventure, 

Novels of Metropolitan Life, 
Short Stories 
Popular Sketches, 

Short Articles, 

Stories of Adventure, 
Popular Information, 
Household Advice, 


The Woman’s World, 
Biogrraphical Sketches, 
Explorations, 
Humorous Anecdotes, 
Poems and Ballads, 
Natural History, 

Home Culture, 

Health Sugrgrestions, 
Principles of Etiquette, 
Articles of Travel, 
Historical Sketches, 


Popular Miscellany. 



'HIS is a variety from which all can make a pleasing selection 


1 every week; and, furthermore, it is ample testimony to the 
great merit and value of the coming volume. 


Illustrated Souvenir Numbers, 


F rom week to week, the Ledger will be filled with the illustra- 
tions of celebrated artists, and the extra Christmas, Easter, 
Thanksgiving and Fourth-of-July numbers will be features of 
special artistic embellishment. 

The LEDGER Is issued weekly, and the subscription 
price is only $2 a year. Send Money Order, Regis- 
tered Letter or Check, at our risk, to 


ROBERT B0NNER;S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York Citj. 


DAVID LINDSAY 


31 Sequel to ''Gloria.” 


BY 

MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH, 

Author of “ The Hidden Handf “ The Unloved Wifef 
Lilith f Unknown f A Leap in the Darkf 

Nearest and Dearest f For Woman’s 

Lovef The Lost Lady of I^onef 
Gloria f etc,^ etc. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. A. CARTER. 


12mo. 466 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 

In David Lindsay,” Mrs. Soiithworth has given a beautiful 
sequel to her charming novel ‘‘Gloria.” The characters are 
ripened by trial and experience, and the continuation of their 
history is full of engrossing interest. There are a greater variety 
of incident and richer growth of character in this novel than in 
“Gloria,” but the two should be read in connection in order 
fully to appreciate them both. The illustrations, by Mr. F. A. 
Carter, are admirable, and add much to the attractiveness of the 
book. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


^ j ' ■ . ■ * . ■'■ e ‘ ^ 5^' 




A NEW NOVEL 

By the Popular Author, Mrs. Amelia E. Barr. 

A Cheap Edition: Price, 50 Cents. 


THE BEADS OF TASMER. 


BY 

MRS. AMELIA E. BARR. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


12ino. 395 Fagres. Kantsomely Bound in Engrlish Cloth Uniform 
with “A Matter of Millions” and “The Forsaken Inn,” By- 
Anna Katharine Green. Price, $1.25. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


“ The Beads of Tasnier,” by Mrs. Amelia E. Barr, is a power- 
ful and interesting story of Scotch life. The singular and stren- 
uous ambition which a combination of ancient pride and modern 
greed inspires; the loveliness of the Scotch maidens, both High- 
landers and Lowlanders ; the deep religious nature of the people ; 
the intense manifestation of these characteristic traits by Scotch 
lovers of high and low degree; the picturesque life of the coun- 
try, involving the strangest vicissitudes of fortune and the exhibi- 
tion of the most loving and loyal devotion, constitute a theme 
which is of the highest intrinsic interest, and which is developed 
by the accomplished authoress with consummate art and irresist- 
ible power. “The Beads of Tasmer ” is certainly one of Mrs. 
Barr’s very best works, and we shall be much mistaken if it does 
not take high rank among the most successful novels of the 
century. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 





0' 






i ,*«4 ' • ' . r. ■ « 


1 • . » 

♦ ■ . • 

1.. ■ - ■-. 

, -/K 

J /" i 

• • ' 





■ \ 




-I *“ ■o, v>.'A'.. 




't,J 


,s.-^ii-i'. •■ i_i.> vs+r:. ■3:'^? 


'-♦'i ' Bilk. -1 

( \ 

^ . N Si' / 

t- • < 1^ 

• •• j 

' * 


k* 

•. * V. t '■ 


• '. ^ -. J ■ - • 

' . * • ^. , ^ , » 

* ,* • ' 

■•«fl 


V. • 


I ♦• 


> \ - . 




# : ♦ 




J^ '7 -i'r 





' K \ 


r '.1 


w. 






■■' i : ■ ' ■■ '-'mX 







• . «• 


' \ ‘ ‘ . ' - . ‘-If 

A*,’ .' ■••« . ■ -^ »»■. t/ 4 f'' '’ .• ' ' 

^ ./Ik. r- • ,. .• ' ^ • ’ 

• 'V *» .* 


■\V' -♦;.•/ 

. < k 






/ . 


••r ■ 


.* . I 



» U' > 


. •■-'*•-•' V 4 - ' '-'L 

X. ,>* ■ < .,'• r • ' ■••V 


: /.i • 

i •■ ■ ' / 

. .• . \ tJ . - i ► 


■' > ' ? ^ * 




. V 




• lA*' ( 


‘JV 


- ■ » • • >1 

> V, ’ 

:■ • v 


•/ 


•♦ii 


• I * 


» 1 



t . 


•" Vil*'- ’•• *•■ 
» • ■ " ; 


I ' « 


ii* 2 ’ ri * •v^ ^ '*•'» 

fi< <y.i': .’ .;. ',<■;?< ^ y , . 

. ; ■' ■ ’ /■• S •*..- ' *' , ^ 

Ui ‘ ^ 








•f- 


■vr ;>'■ ■’'I 


• ■ * 


S 


•1 


^ 'k/ v ^ 

:'!■ ' .y ., 


* ' -v 

f.Li . 


v.-:.’vrV,“^ 




;• .. • ^V-:-’ ■••.>..' ' '■••'•I V .-V r'..* ♦ ^ 

■: 'my y'A'; . ■ ^;' ;.■ 


• . p 




' Vi' i’’ * •■• ' '■*. ' 



■ ', y.f.- 


* ; 


• / '■ ■'•••.• '-.'■'■»>■ ‘ "V 

■ . ‘ir V:'/-*' V..,; 'a'* * •;* 

' •»- vV/^ ' ’j. , •'.■ 'vV Vi-"' \' 'm 

‘ • xmii 




^ II 


•’ y t ‘‘ V? Y# . 

"' .‘v ’ .'v 3 ■ '■ ,!■'.' 

♦ ^ t ». • ’ ■ 

4 ^ \ • • '/ •' .''14 

'•■.■' ' .! . ■' , v‘^ ' 

- . xiy . 



Ht' 

' J(V 


'. v"-- '-'v/-.^ ^.i’, 

^ ' • / • -iSV *ii\‘ » *» 










’ 'i 


''.•f . * 


:,S‘> 

• * . -^ ■ T. * 

‘Y ' 

« • 

%*« 


f* v' 

5 f • ^ 


'bi* 


m 








V*' V 


I * 


* • 


' ' K 

r.’-'W w ‘«B 

’ '* '■. •. '.V'^'^ V '‘' .'■■>--- 

. • ■■ ■. • ■ .'^ ■ , ' ;■■, 

' , , . ► ’ ^ 




ry\ 


lIM 




b ;!' : > 


: 



< • 



* . • -.v- .'• ■ V f| 


' - * 



.1 


« < 


■. 


.1 • 


. V.' ^'' ■. 

■• ■ ■' ■■': ■'/ 

•• JW% ' • ' . u • ■ ' , , ■ 


■rKT> 






I 


. I 



‘ ’ • > * ‘ • . 

fc ■ 


* t 


'V. •.,•■ ',;■/ n)-.' ■-*-3 

' ^r^'"ky 


w 

'-■VO.! '“iM#- ’ 





il 


> 


-1 , 


41 . y< -, A 


\ • ^•* 


tli Oj 




• ' CT'L. ’■■ viW'-V- ■•:•/' 

.■ *, , ■■:.‘>yi . ^ ,.. !• »’ A ■'i'M'.Vj v'f' 

j;.-V"aB>'. ■ - 

• ’■'J' . if tf . \ . 

. ' f.^j 

^ . ' ’.• . ’I'v' 


fl 




\ < 


■ / . . ' V ' \ .% ■: . 

P M\ 

' ii !" 1^ ; i /' >'■■'-.'■■■ ■' ■ • 

■ w^r ’ '''T) '• *r • ., . * < ol M 

.> . - -M- ^ Miithiiiidwl"”**™" Wl^irTri 


. i*< '1 

I . 



/ 1; .•M '. • 

■>.ii ■ ■■• • 


■■■ • :v >, 

•■ V • fiWiB 


“ 

k. s ' ♦ j 



»« 1 


f 




I ' 


• » 



i' . 


' . ' ^ ^ :V 'O, 

• A - ' * * ilO 


<. A 


I 


'> 




• » 


^ } 




LIBRARY OF CX)NGRESS 


